j 


F  44.1  tl 
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FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 


REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM    TO 


THE    LIBRARY   OF 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


Section      53  l 


I 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/musnOOhart 


T.1E 


SONGSTER'S/ 


W, 


A   NEW  AN1 

CHOICE  COLLECTION 
POPULAR  SONGS, 

SELECTED  FROM  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 


HARTFORD 
PUBLISHED  BY  HENRY  BENTON 


1S29. 


The  Noble  Scuball. 

Air — "  Money  makes  the  Mare  go** 

Gentlemen,  Noblemen,  Ladies  and  all, 
HI  sing  you  the  praise  of  the  Noble  Scuball^- 
When  this  you  hear,  you  shall  quick  understand 
Oi' brave  Squire  Marvel,  the  peer  of  the  land. 

Squire  Marvel  turn'd  round,  and  thus  he  did  say. 
Gentlemen,  Noblemen,  to-morrow's  the  day, 
Your  saddles,  your  riders,  and  all  things  prepare, 
For  we  must  away  to  the  plains  of  Kildare. 

The  horses  brought  out,  they  view'd  them  all  round, 
Gentlemen,  Noblemen,  your  money  lay  down, 
And  all  those  spectators  will  quick  clear  the  way, 
The  riders  are  mounted  without  a  moment's  delay. 

The  riders  were  mounted  and  away  they  did  fly, 
Scuball  like  an  arrow,  Miss  Portly  pass'd  by  ; 
And  had  you  been  there  to  have  seen  them  gone 

round, 
You'd  swore  in  your  heart  they  ne'er  touch'd  the 

ground. 

And  when  they  had  arrived  at  the  middle  of  the 

course, 
Scuball  with  his  rider  begins  to  discourse— 
And  now  noble  rider  pray  tell  unto  me, 
How  far  in  the  rear  Miss  Portly  she  be. 

Then  says  the  rider,  you  run  in  great  style, 
The  Mare's  in  the  rear  a  large  English  mile- 
Stick  close  to  your  saddle,  my  boy,  never  fear, 
We  ne'er  shall  be  beat  by  the  gallant  Gray  Mare. 


And  when  they'd  arriv'd  at  the  winning  post, 
Scuball  with  his  rider  must  needs  drink  a  toast — 
Here's  to  those  that  laid  money  all  on  the  Gray  Mare, 
For  they've  lost  their  purses  upon  the  plains  of  Kil 
dare. 


An  Old  Maid. 

Tune— The  Old  Maid. 

There  was  an  old  maiden  of  seventy-six, 

Who  scarce  had  a  tooth  in  her  head, 
Swerving  a  little  from  prudish  tricks, 
Conceiv'd  a  strong  passion  to  wed  ; 
And  pleasing  herself  with  splendid  views, 

Had  a  mighty  conceit  of  herself : 
She  was  sure  that  no  man  in  the  world  could  refoie 

A  maiden  with  plenty  of  pelf. 
Chorus — Sing  fol  de  rol,  lol  de  rol,  old  and  tough, 
Fol  de  rol,  lol  de  rol,  old  and  tough, 
A  premium  will  be  paid 
To  any  old  bachelor  old  and  tough, 
To  any  old  bachelor  old  and  tough, 
To  any  old  bachelor  bold  enough 
To  marry  this  merry  old  maid — 
To  marry  a  maid,  to  marry  a  mfiid, 
To  marry  a  merry  old  maid, 
To  any  old  bachelor  bold  enough 
To  marry  this  merry  old  maid. 

O  yes,  O  yes,  said  the  crier  aloud, 

Come  bachelors  be  not  afraid, 
For  treasure  will  render  him  wealthy  enough 

Who  marries  this  merry  old  maid. 
And  money,  you  know,  makes  the  matter  a  joke, 

When  gain'd  by  a  frisky  old  trapse, 


Who'd  rather  be  hound  in  a  conjugal  yoke 
Than  afterwards  leading  of  apes. 

Sing  fol  de  rol,  &c. 

Now  see  her  bedizzcn'd  in  juvenile  rig, 

Instead  of  her  tresses  of  gray  ; 
Like  hoary  September,  in  juvenile  rig, 

Assuming  a  visage  of  May — 
How  happy  the  man  to  obtain  such  a  wife, 

Whose  age  will  divest  him  of  care, 
No  hazard  he'll  run  in  the  course  of  hi3  life, 

In  joining  the  group  at  town  fair. 

Sing  fol  de  rol,  kc. 


Hail  to  the  Day, 

Tune— Hail  to  the  Chief. 

Hail  to  the  day  which  arises  in  splendour, 

Spreading  the  lustre  of  liberty  far  ; 
Lone;  may  its  glories  illumine  September, 

Which  twice  beheld  freemen  victors  in  war. 
Rous'd  by  the  spirit  of  heaven-born  freedom, 

Perry  his  lightning  pours  over  the  lake, 
His  falcon  a  meteor  glitters  to  leave  them, 

And  swift  on  thefoemen  in  thunder  they  break. 
Chorus — Loud  swell  the  cannon's  roar. 

On  Erie's  sounding  shore — 
Answer'd  in  vollies  by  musquetry's  voice, 
Till  Britain's  cross  descends, 
And  the  haughty  foe  bends, 
Victory,  glory,  Columbians  rejoice. 

Hail  to  the  day  in  splendour  returning, 

Which  lights  us  to  glory  and  conccest  qgain— 
Time  told  a  year,  still  the  war-tore}  9B  oariiwj 
At 


And  threw  her  red  rays  on  the  wares  of  Chan 
plain. 
Rous'd  by  the  spirit  that  conqner'd  for  Perry, 
Dauntless  M'Donough  advanced  on  the  fray, 
The  instant  the  glory  that  brighten'd  lake  Erie, 

Burst  on  Champlain  in  splendour  of  day. 
Chorus — Loud  swell  the  cannon's  roar, 

Round  Pittsburgh's  bloody  shore, 
Britons  retreat  from  the  tempest  of  war  ; 
Provost  deserts  the  field, 
While  the  gallant  ships  yield, 
Victory,  glory,  Columbians  huzza  ! 

Hail  to  the  day  that's  recorded  in  story, 

Where  lives  the  bright  record  of  unfading  fame- 
Long  may  Columbians,  inspir'd  by  its  glory, 

Hail  its  returning  with  joyous  acclaim. 
Victory  scatter'd  profusely  the  laurel, 

Over  our  heroes  on  land  and  on  flood, 
Britons  astonish'd,  relinquish'd  the  quarrel, 
Peace  saw  her  olive  arise  from  the  blood. 
Chorus — Now  cannon  cease  to  roar, 

Round  freedom's  peaceful  shore, 
Silent  and  hush'd  is  the  war-bugle's  voice  ; 
Let  festive  joys  increase 
In  the  sunshine  of  peace, 
Peace  gain'd  by  victory,  freemen  rejoice. 


An  American  Volunteer* 

The  trumpet  sounds,  my  country  calls, 
A  hostile  band  our  shores  invade, 

I  go  to  dare  the  cannon  balls, 
And  dye  in  blood  my  battle  blade. 


And  Mary,  pontic  and  mq< 

Weep  not,  I  pray,  when  t'ms  we  part, 
Drire  from  tliine  eye  the  falling  tear, 
And  banish  sorrow  from  thy  heart. 

For  should  I  coward-like  await 
The  foes'  approach  io  marshal  pride, 

And  see  them  force  our  farm  house  gate, 
With  lust  and  rapine  bj  their  side — 

I  could  not  hear  tue  keen  rebuke, 

Thy  screams  would  speak  in  that  dread  hour, 
I  could  not  bear  thy  helpless  look, 

When  struggling  with  a  ruffian's  power. 

No,  go(  my  war-horse,  I'll  away 

And  meet  the  invader  on  the  strand, 

And  they  shall  surely  vie  the  day, 
They  dar'd  upon  our  coast  to  land. 

And  weep  not,  Mary,  if  1  f  ill, 

Nor  heave  thy  bosom  with  a  sigh — 

Death  is  the  common  lot  of  all, 
'Tis  for  my  country  1  shall  die. 

And  teach  our  little  darling  boy 

That  life  is  not  with  slav'ry  wed, 
Teach  him  to  yield  it  up  with  joy, 

At  freedom's  call,  on  honour's  bed. 

Tell  him  'twas  thus  our  heroes  fought; 

And  Mary,  be  thou  sure  to  tell 
Our  little  one,  that  thus  he  ought 

To  fight,  for  thus  his  father  fell. 


6 
The  Drum. 

Come  each  gallant  lad, 

Who  for  pleasure  quits  care  ; 
To  the  drum,  drum,  drum,  to,  &c. 

To  the  drum-head  with  spirit  repair. 
I 
Each  recruiter  takes  his  glass, 

And  each  young  soldier  with  his  lass, 
While  the  drum  beats  tattoo,  while,  &c 

Retires  the  sweet  night  10  pass 

Each  night  gaily  laid — 

Thus  we'll  merrily  waste, 
Till  the  drum,  drum,  drum,  &c. 

Till  the  drum  tells  us  'tis  past. 

Picquet  arms  at  dawn  now  shine, 
And  each  drum  ruffles  down  the  line 

Now  the  drum  beats  revelle,  now,  &,c. 
Saluting  the  day  divine. 

But  hark  ;  yonder  shouts — 
See  the  standard  now  alarms, 

Now  the  drum,  drum,  drum,  Lc. 
Now  the  drum  beats  loudly  to  arms. 

iird  and  wounded,  how  they  lie  ! 
Helter,  skelter,  see  they  fly, 
Now  the  drum  beats  retreat,  now,  &c. 
We'll  fire  a  feu-de-joy. 


9 

How  stands  the  Glass  around  ? 

How  stands  the  glass  around  ? 
For  shame,  you  take  no  care,  my  boys  ! 

How  stands  (he  glass  around  ? 

Let  mirth  and  wine  abound! 
The  trumpet  sounds  ! 
The  colours  now  are  flying,  boys, 

To  fight,  kill,  or  wound  ; 

May  we  still  he  found 
Content  with  our  hard  fate,  mj"  ^oys, 
On  the  cold  ground  ! 

Why,  soldiers,  why 
Should  we  be  melancholly,  boys  ? 

Why,  soldiers,  why  ! 

Whose  business  'tis  to  die. 
What!  sighing  !  fie  ! 
Don't  feai    drink  on,  be  jolly,  boys! 

'Tis  he    you,  or  I — 

Cold,  hvf .  wet  or  dry  ; 
We're  a!wr>'s  bound  to  follow,  boys  f 
And  scvc  to  fly  ! 

'Tis  but  ja  oin, 
I  me;in  not  to  as. braid  you,  boys  ; 

'Tis  but  in  vair 

For  soldiers  tc  tomplain  : 
Should  next  crvmaign 
Send  us  to  him  who  made  us,  boYf, 

We're  free  from  pyn  : 

But  if  we  remain, 
A  bottle  and  kind  latukAr 
Cure  all  again. 


10 
I  could  never  cry  for  laughing. 

Luck  in  life,  or  good  or  bad, 

Ne'er  could  make  me  melancholy. 
Seldom  rich,  yet  never  sad, 

Sometimes  poor,  yet  always  jolly. 
Fortune  in  my  scale,  that's  poz. 

Of  mischance  put  more  than  half  in. 
Yet,  I  don't  know  how  it  was, 

I  could  never  cry  for  laughing. 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

I  could  never  cry  for  laughing. 

Monstrous  grave  are  men  of  law, 

(Law  knows  no  end  when  onoe  beginning,) 
Yet  those  dons  I  never  saw, 

But  their  wigs  would  set  me  grinning. 
Once,  when  I  was  very  ill. 

Seven  doctors  came — such  quizzes  ! 
Zooks  !  I  thought  they  would  me  kill, 

With  laughing  at  their  comic  phizzes, 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

With  laughing  at  their  comic  phizzes* 

After  that,  in  love  I  fell, 

(Love  creates  a  deal  of  trouble) 
But  my  courtship — strange  to  tell, 

Only  made  my  mirth  redouble  : 
I  laugh'd — she  frown'd — 1  laugh'd  again. 

Till  1  brought  her  to  her  tether, 
Then  she  smil'd — we  wed — since  then 

We  mean  to  laugh  through  life  together 
Ha,  ha,  ha*  ha,  ha,  ka,  ha  ! 

We  mean  to  laugh  through  life  together. 


11 

The  Cobbler 

A  Gobbler  I  am,  and  my  name  is  Dick  Awl, 
I'm  a  bit  of  a  beast,  for  I  live  in  a  stall  ! 
With  an  ugly  old  wife,  and  a  tortoise-shell  cat, 
I  mends  boots  and  shoes  with  a  rat,  a  tat,   tat. 

Tol  de  rol. 

This  morning  at  breakfast,  on  bacon  and  spinnage, 
Says  I  to  my  wife,  I'm  going  to  Greenwich  ; 
Says  she,  Dicky  Awl,  aye,  and  I  will  go  too, 
Says  1,  Mrs.  Awl,  I'll  be  d— d  if  you  do. 

Told  de  rol. 

One  word  bred  another — a  shocking  mishap  ! 
She  gave  me  the  lie,  and  I  gave  her  the  strap  • 
To  tarry  at  home,  then,  I  thought  it  a  sin, 
So  I  soon  bolted  out — but  I  bolted  her  in. 

Tol  de  rol. 

To  Greenwich,  by  water,  I  merrily  sped, 
And  saw  them  all  rolling  it,  heels  over  head  ; 
The  sun  was  go  bright,  and  so  high  the  wind  blew, 
1  spied — what  1  don't  choose  to  mention  to  you. 

Tol  de  rol. 

But  when  I  got  home  (it  is  true,  on  my  life) 
Bill  Button,  the  tailor,  was  off  with  my  wife  ; 
Though  old,  Mrs.  Awl  has  no  fancy  to  bolts, 
She  had  but  one  tooth,  but  that  tooth  was  a  colt's. 

Tol  de  roL 

Ah  Sally,  my  lore  !  'twas  a  very  bad  plan, 
To  cut  me,  and  choose  the  ninth  part  oi'a  man  ; 
She  thought  in  eloping,  so  cunning  and  tricky, 
With  poor  Dicky  Awl,  it  would  toon  be  all  Dicky. 

Tol  de  roL 


i 


12 

If  Bill  and  my  rib  should  get  into  a  fray, 
He  may  sell  her  by  auction  the  next  market  day  ; 
If  nobody  bids  for  the  sweet  pretty  elf, 
Knock  her  down,  my   dear  Billy,   and   keep  her 
yourself.  Tol  de  rol. 

Oh,   say  not  Woman's    Love    is   bought. 

Oh,  say  not  woman's  love  is  bought, 

With  vain  and  empty  treasure  ; 
Oh,  say  not  woman's  heart  is  caught 

By  ev'ry  idle  pleasure  ; 
When  first  her  gentle  bosom  knows 

Love's  flame,  it  wanders  never  ; 
Deep  in  her  heart  the  passion  glows, 

She  loves,  and  loves  for  ever  ! 

Oh,  say  not  woman's  false  as  fair, 

That  like  the  bee  she  ranges  ; 
Still  seeking  flowers  more  sweet  and  rare, 

As  fickle  fancy  changes. 
Ah,  no  !  the  love  that  first  can  warm, 

Will  leave  her  bosom  never  ! 
No  second  passion  e'er  can  charm, 

She  loves,  and  loves  for  ever  i 


The  Old  Commodore. 
Od*s  blood,  what  a  time  for  a  seaman  to  skulk 

Under  gingerbread  hatches  a  shore  ; 
What  a  damn'd  bad  job  that  this  batter  d  old  hulk, 
Can't  be  rigg'd  out  for  sea  once  more  ; 
For  the  puppies  as  they  pass, 
Cocking  up  a  squinting  glass, 


13 

Thn3  run  clown  ibe  old  Commodore  ' 
That's  the  old  Commodore, 

The  oL  rum  Commodore, 
The  gouty  old  Commodore,  he  1  he  !  he  ' 

"Why  the  bullets  and  the  gout, 

Have  so  knockM  li Is  hull  about 

That  he'll  never  more  he  tit  for  sea. 

Here  am  I  in  distress,  like  a  ship  water-logg'd, 

Not  a  tow-rope  at  hand  or  an  oar, 
I'm  left  by  my  crew,  and  may  1  be  flogg'd, 
But  the  doctor's  a  son  of  a  whore  ; 
While  I'm  swallowing  his  slops, 
How  nimble  are  his  chops, 
Thus  queering  the  old  Commodore  : 
Bad  case,  Commodore  ; 
Can't  say,  Commodore  ; 
Mustn't  flatter,  Commodore,  says  he  ; 
For  the  bullets  and  the  gout 
Have  so  knock'd  your  hull  about, 

That  you'll  never  more  be  tit  for  sea. 

What !  no  more  be  afloat  ?  blood  and  fury,  they  lie  ! 

I'm  a  seaman,  and  only  three  score  ; 
And  if,  as  they  tell  me,  I'm  likely  to  die, 
Odzooks  !  let  me  not  die  ashore. 
As  to  death,  'tis  all  a  joke, 
Sailors  live  in  fire  and  smoke, 
So  at  least  says  the  old  Commodore  ; 
The  old  rum  Commodore, 
The  tough  old  Commodore, 
The  fighting  old  Commodore,  says  he  ; 
Who  the  bullets  nor  the  gout, 
Nor  the  enemy  to  boot, 
Shall  kill  till  they  grapple  him  at  tea. 


. 


14 


Rosy  Smile. 
Tune — Mir  a  of  the  Vale. 
Where's  the  rosy  smile  you  gave  me, 

When  I  thought  we  ne'er  could  sever  ? 
Oh  !  it  beam'd  but  to  enslave  me  ; 

Now  'tis  gone,  and  gone  for  ever  I 
Where's  the  glance  that  sweetly  glisten'd 

Through  the  dewy  tear  of  pleasure  ? 
Where's  the  song  to  which  I  listen'd, 

When  you  were  my  treasure  ? 

Where's  the  blushing  crown  you  wreath'd  me, 

Lost  in  passion's  gentle  dreaming  ? 
Where's  the  melting  vow  you  breath'd  me 

From  that  lip  with  rapture  teeming  ? 
Like  your  love  the  rose  hath  faded, 

All  its  fragrant  power  is  over  ; 
Sorrow's  blight  the  leaf  invaded, 

Emblem  of  your  lover! 


Silent  Tears. 

Can  I  forget  the  silent  tears, 

Which  I  have  shed  for  thee  ; 
And  all  the  pangs,  and  doubts,  and  fears, 

Which  scatter'd  o'er  my  bloom  of  years, 

The  blights  of  misery  ? 

I  never  close  my  languid  eyes, 

Unless  to  dream  of  thee  ; 
My  every  breath  is  but  the  sigh, 
My  every  sound,  the  broken  sigh, 

Of  lasting  misery. 


15 

Blue-Eyed  Mary. 

Come  tell  mo,  bloe-ey'd  stranger, 
Say  whither do'tt  thou  roam  ? 

OYr  this  wide  world  a  ranger, 
Hast  thou  no  friends  or  home  ? 

They  cali'd  m<4  blt)e-ey*d  -Mary, 

When  friends  and  fortune  sunTd 
But  ah,  how  fortunes  vary, 

I  now  am  sorrow's  child. 
Come  here,  Til  buy  thy  flowers, 

And  ease  thy  haplesfl  lot, 
Still  wet  with  waning  showers, 

I'll  buy,  Forget-me-not. 
Kind  Sir,  then  take  these  posies, 

They're  fading  like  my  youth, 
But  never,  like  these  roses, 

Shall  wither  Mary's  truth. 

Look  up  thou  poor  forsaken, 

I'll  give  thee  house  and  home, 
And  if  I'm  not  mistaken, 

Thou'lt  never  wish  to  roam. 
Born  thus  to  weep  my  fortune, 

Tho'  poor  I'll  virtuous  prove, 
I  early  learnt  this  caption, 

That  pity  is  not  love. 
No,  no  sweet  blae-ey'd  strnnger 

I'll  give  thee  hand  and  heart, 
Be  not  a  friendless  ranger. 

We  never  more  will  part- 
Once  more  I'm  happy  Mary, 

Once  more  has  fortune  smil'd, 
Who  ne'er  from  virtue  vary, 

May  yet  be  fortune's  child. 


16 
Love  has  Eyes. 

Love's  blind,  they  say,  oh,  never,  nay, 

Can  words  love's  grace  impart  ? 
The  fancy  weak,  the  tongue  may  speak 
But  eyes  alone  the  heart. 
In  one  soft  look  what  language  lies  ! 
Oh,  yes,  believe  me,  lcvehas  eyes. 
Oh  !  love  has  eyes, 
Love  has  eyes,&c. 

Love's  wing'd,  they  cry — oh,  never,  I 

No  pinions  have  to  soar  ; 
Deceivers  rove,  but  never  love, 

Attach'd,  he  roves  no  more. 
Can  he  have  wings  who  never  flies, 

Oh,  yes,  believe  me,  love  has  eyes,  &c 


A  Soldier's  Gratitude. 

Whate'er  my  fate,  where'er  I  roam. 

By  sorrow  still  opprest, 
Til  ne'er  fDrget  the  peaceful  home, 

That  gave  a  wand'rer  rest  ; 
Then  ever  rove  life's  sunny  banks, 

By  sweetest  flow'rets  strew'd 
Still  im.y  you  claim  a  soldier's  thanks  1 

A  soldier's  gratitude. 

The  tender  sigh,  the  balmy  tear, 

That  meek-ey'd  Pity  gave, 
My  last  expiring  hour  shall  cheer, 

And  bless  the  wand'rer's  grave. 
Then  ever  rove  life's  sunny  banks, 

By  sweetest  flow'rets  strew'd  ! 
Still  may  you  claim  a  soldier's  thanki, 

A  soldier's  gratitude. 


, 


17 

Love   and   Glory. 
Young  Henry  was  as  brave  ■  youth 

As  evergracM  a  martial  story  ; 
And  Jane  was  fiiir  as  lovely  truth  . 

She  sigli'd  for  love,  and  he  for  glory. 

With  her  his  faith  he  meant  to  plight, 
Ami  told  her  many  a  gallant  story  ; 

Till  war,  their  honest  joys  to  blight, 
Call'd  him  away  from  love  to  glory. 

Brave  Henry  met  the  foe  with  pride  ; 

Jane  follow'd — fought — ah  !   hapless  story- 
In  man's  attire,  by  Henry's  side, 

She  died  for  love,  and  he  for  glory. 

The   Apple   Tree. 

A  PARODY  CIV  THE  WILLOW. 
Oh  !  take  me  to  your  arms,  my  love, 

For  bright  the  moon  doth  shine  : 
Oh  !  take  me  to  your  arms,  my  love, 

Or  I'll  take  you  to  mine. 
She  left  her  bed,  poppM  out  her  head, 

4  Begone,  you  rogue,'  says  she  ; 
*  Come  down,'  says  1,  ■  or  here  Til  lie 

Beneath  the  Apple  Tree.' 

My  love  had  wealth  and  beauty, 

But  soon  her  cash  run  dry  ; 
My  love  had  wealth  and  beauty, 

But  she  had  lost  an  eye. 
Her  foot  so  fair,  tript  down  the  stair, 

Her  auburn  lock?  so  red  ! 
Then  in  I  crept  where  Judy  slept. 

Beneath  her  tester  bed. 
2* 


18 

Next  morn  I  woke  quite  early, 

And  set  me  up  on  end — 
Next  morn  I  woke  quite  early, 

And  thought  to  seek  my  friend. 
My  wife  was  gone — my  friend  was  flown 

My  love  she  stole  her  mug  ; 
So  down  1  lay  in  bed  all  day, 

Beneath  the  worsted  rug. 


The  Sailor  Boy. 

The  sea  was  calm,  the  sky  serene, 

And  gently  blew  the  eastern  gale  ; 
When  Anna,  seated  on  a  rock, 

Watch'd  the  Lavonia's  less'ning  sail. 
To  neaven  she  thus  her  prayer  address'd— 

'  Thou  who  canst  save,  or  canst  destroy  { 
From  each  surrounding  danger  guard 

My  much  lov'd  little  sailor  boy. 

When  tempests  o'er  the  ocean  howl, 

And  even  sailors  shrink  with  dread, 
Be  some  protecting  angel  near, 

To  hover  round  my  William's  head  . 
He  was  belov'd  by  all  the  plain, 

His  father's  pride,  his  mother's  joy, 
Then  safely  to  their  arms  restore 

Their  much  lov'd  little  sailor  boy. 

May  no  rude  foe  his  course  impede — 

Conduct  him  safely  o'er  the  waves— 
O,  may  he  never  be  compeli'd 

To  fight  for  power,  or  mix  with  slaves  : 
May  smiling  peace  his  steps  attend, 

Each  rising  hour  be  crown'd  with  joy, 
As  blest  as  that  when  I  again 

Shall  meet  my  much  lov'd  sailor  boj . 


19 

Sweet  Seducer. 

Sweet  seducer,  ever  smiling  ! 
Charming  still,  and  «till  beguiling! 
Oft  I  swore  to  love  thee  never, 
Yet  I  love  thee  more  than  ever. 

Oh  !  be  less,  be  less  enchanting, 
Let  some  little  grace  be  wanting  ; 
Let  my  eyes,  when  I'm  expiring, 
Gaze  awhile,  without  admiring! 


The  Grinders. 

Search  the  world  round  and  about, 

Many  a  freak  you'll  be  finding  ; 
But  what  (Vye  think*!  all  the  go? 

By  Lord  Harry,  it's  nothing  but  grinding. 
Terry  heigh  ho,  hoigh  he — 

Scandal  the  devil  can't  bind  her  ; 
The  world  is  all  how  come  you  so, 
And  ev'ry  profession's  turn'd  grinder. 

The  statesmen,  devouring  elves, 
And  lawyers  are  terrible  giants  ; 

They  grind  all  the  corn  for  themselves, 
And  leave  all  the  chaff  for  their  clients. 
Terry  heigh  ho,  &ic. 

The  doctors  grind  you  for  their  fees — 
They  kill  you  for  mere  preservation  ; 

For  they  know  if  you  live  to  get  well, 

They  must  die,  snre  enough,  of  starvation. 
Terry  heigh  ho,  &c. 


20 

The  misers  grind  north,  east,  west,  and  south, 
The  barber  at  grinding's  a  crammer: 

The  church-warden's  got  a  wide  mouth, 
And  his  grinders  are  like  a  sledge  hammer, 
Terry  heigh  Tio,  &c. 

The  gamester  he  grinds  by  the  card — 
Sure  he  is  the  devil's  own  cousin  • 

The  tailor  he  grinds  by  the  yard, 

And  the  baker  he  grinds  by  the  dozen. 
Terry  heigh  ho,  &c. 

Thus  like  cobblers,  to  make  both  ends  meet, 
At  grinding  each  sticks  to  his  tether, 

Till  Old  Nick,  who  all  grinders  can  beat, 
Shall  grind  the  whole  boiling  together. 
Terry  heigh  ho,  &x. 


A  Highland  Laddie  heard  of  War 

A  highland  laddie  heard  of  war, 

Which  set  his  heart  in  motion  : 
He  heard  the  distant  cannon  roar — - 
He  saw  the  smiling  ocean. 

Come  weal,  come  wo, 

To  sea  he'd  go. 
And  left  one  morning  early, 

Lock  Lomond  Ben, 

And  the  willow  glen, 
And  Jenny  that  lov'd  him  dearly. 

He  wander'd  east,  he  wander'd  south, 

But  joy  he  could  not  find  it ; 
But  he  found  out  this  wholesome  truth, 

,4nd  had  the  sense  to  mind  it — 


21 

Of  a1  the  earth, 

The  bonny  north 
To  cherish  la'e  and  early, 

Loch  Lomond  Don, 

And  willow  glen, 
And  Jenny  that  lovM  him  dearly. 


Plato's  Advice. 

Says  Plato,  why  should  man  he  vain. 

Since  hoanteous  heav'n  has  made  him  great  ? 

Why  look  with  insolent  disdain 

On  those  undeck'd  with  wealth  and  state  ? 

Can  costly  robes  or  beds  of  down, 
Or  all  the  gems  that  deck  the  fair  ? 

Can  all  the  glories  of  a  orown 

Give  health,  or  ease  the  brow  of  care  ? 

The  scepter'd  king,  the  burdened  slave, 
The  humble  and  the  haughty  die  ; 

The  rich,  the  poor,  the  base,  the  hrave, 
In  dust  without  distinction  lie. 

Go  search  the  tombs  where  monarchs  rest, 
Who  once  the  greatest  titles  wore  ; 

Of  wealth  and  glory  now  bereft, 
And  all  their  honours  are  no  more. 

So  through  the  air  the  meteor  flies, 
And  speeds  along  his  gilded  train, 

When  shot,  'tis  gone,  its  beauty  dies, 
Dissolved  to  common  dust  a^ain. 


22 
The  Girl  of  my  Heart. 

In  the  world's  crooked  path  where  I've  been, 
Forc'd  to  share  of  life's  gloom  my  full  part ; 

The  sunshine  that  softened  the  scene, 
Was  a  smile  from  the  girl  of  my  heart. 

Not  a  swain  when  the  lark  quits  her  nest, 
But  to  labour  with  glee  will  depart, 

If  at  eve  he  expects  to  be  bles  t 

With  a  smile  from  the  girl  of  Lis  heart. 

* 

Should  pale  sorrow  and  care  cross  my  way, 
Let  my  mind  still  this  maxim  impart, 

That  the  comfort  of  man's  fleeting  clay, 
Is  a  smile  from  the  girl  of  his  heart.  • 

r- 

For  alas  !  what  is  wealth,  power  and  fame, 
Or  the  tricks  and  the  follies  of  art — 

To  the  light  and  the  warmth  of  the  flame, 
Kindled  up  by  the  girl  of  my  heart? 

'Tis  a  smile  from  a  soul  that's  divine, 
And  its  power  can  Elysium  impart — 

Then  how  raptur'd  this  bosom  of  mine, 
By  a  smile  from  the  girl  of  my  heart ! 


The  Negro  Boy  and  Watch. 

When  avarice  enslaves  the  mind, 

And  selfish  views  alone  bear  sway, 
Man  turns  a  savage  to  his  kind, 

And  blood  and  rapine  mark  his  way : 
AIho  !   for  this  poor  simple  toy, 
I  sold  a  blooming  negro  boy. 


23 

Hi>  father9!  hope,  his  mother's  pride, 
Tho1  black,  j  •  to  the  view, 

I  tore  him  helpless  from  their  Bide, 
And  gaTe  him  to  a  ruffian  crew  : 
To  fiends  that  Africa  coast  annoy, 
1  sold  the  blooming  negro  boy. 

From  country,  friends,  and  parents  torn 

His  tender  limhs  in  chains  confin'dj 
I  i&w  him  o*er  the  billows  borne, 
And  mark'd  his  agony  of  mind  : 
But  still  to  gain  this  simple  toy, 
I  gave  away  the  negro  bojr. 

In  isles  thai  deck  the  western  wave, 

1  dooin'd  the  hapless  youth  to  dwell, 

A  poor,  forlorn,  insulted  slave  — 

A  beast  that  Christians  buy  and  sell  • 

And  in  their  cruel  tasks  employ 

The  much-enduring  negro  boy 

His  wretched  parents  long  shall  mourn, 

Shall  long  explore  the  dismal  main, 
In  hopes  to  see  the  youth's  return, 
But  all  their  hopes  and  sighs  are  vain; 
They  never  shall  the  sight  enjoy 
Of  their  lamented  negro  boy. 

Beneath  a  tyrant's  harsh  command 

He  wears  away  his  youthful  prime  ; 
Far  distant  from  his  native  land, 
A  stranger  in  a  foreign  clime  : 

No  pleasing  thoughts  his  mind  employ, 
A  poor,  dejected  negro  boy. 


24 

Bat  he  who  walks  upon  the  wind, 

Whose  voice  in  thunder's  heard  on  high  ; 
Who  doth  the  raging  tempest  bind, 
Or  wing  the  lightning  thro'  the  sky  : 
In  his  own  time  will  soon  destroy 
The  oppressors  of  the  negro  boy. 

Hard  Times. 
Tune — Robin  Adair. 

What's  this  dull  town  to  me  ? 

No  cash  is  here  ! 
Things  that  we  us'd  to  see, 

Now  don't  appear. 
Where's  all  the  Pittsburgh  bills, 
Silver  dollars,  cents  and  mills  ? 
Oh  !  we  must  check  our  wills, 

No  cash  is  here. 

What  made  the  city  shine  ? 
Money  was  here. 

What  makes  the  lads  repine  ? 
No  cash  is  here. 

What  makes  the  farmers  sad, 

Factors  crazy,  merchants  mad  ? 

Oh  !  times  are  very  bad- 
No  cash  is  here. 

Oh  !  curse  upon  the  banks, 

No  credit's  there. 
They  issue  nought  but  blanks, 

No  cash  is  there. 
Hard  times,  the  men  do  cry, 
Hard  times,  the  women  sigh, 
Ruin  and  misery, 

No  ca^h  is  here  I 


25 
Be  quick,  for  I'm  iu  haste. 

As  'cross  the  fieldi  th«  otbai  morn 
I  tripp'd  so  blithe  and  g  iy, 

The  'squire  with  his  dog  and  gun, 

By  chance  came  by  that  n 
Whither  so  fast,  iweet  maid)  he  cry'd, 

And  caught  me  round  the  waist, 
Pray  stop  awhile — '  Dear  sir,'  said  I, 

4  1  can't,  for  I'm  in  haste.5 

'  You  must  not  go  as  yet,'  cry'd  he, 

*  For  I  have  much  to  say  : 
Come  set  you  down,  and  let  us  chat, 

Upon  the  new  mow'd  hay  ; 
I've  lov'd  you  long,  and  oft  have  wish'd 

Those  ruhy  lips  to  taste, 
HI  have  a  kiss1— *  Well  then/  said  I, 

*  Be  quick,  for  I'm  in  haste.' 

Just  as  I  spoke,  I  saw  young  I  lodge 
Come  through  a  neighbouring  gate  ! 

He  caught  my  hand,  and  cry'd  4  Dear  girl, 
1  fear  I've  made  you  wait ; 

But  here's  the  ring,  come  let's  to  church, 
The  joys  of  love  to  taste' — 

I  left  the  'squire,  and  laughing  cry'd, 

*  You  see,  air,  I'm  in  haste.' 


Columbia....Land  of  Liberty. 

To  liberty's  enraptur'd  sight, 
When  first  Columbia  shone, 

She  hail'd  it  from  her  starry  height, 
And,  smiling,  claim'd  it  as  her  own  : 
3 


20 

1  Fair  land,"  the  goddess  cried,  "  be  free  ! 

M  Soil  of  my  choice  !   to  fame  arise  1" 
She  spoke,  and  heaven's  minstrelsy 

Swell'd  the  loud  chorus  through  the  skies, 
All  hail !  for  ever  great  and  free  ! 
Columbia — land  of  liberty  ! 

Columbia's  genius  heard  the  strain, 

And  proudly  rais'd  her  drooping  crest; 
Her  sons,  impatient,  fjll'd  the  plain, 

Where  panted  high  each  patriot  breast. 
Their  fetters  they  indignant  spurn'd  ; 

The}r  waved  their  falchions  high  in  air, 
And  where  the  goddess'  altar  burn'd, 

From  kneeling  warriors  rose  the  prayer 
To  die  be  ours,  if  thou  art  free, 
Columbia- — land  of  liberty  1 

War  blew  her  clarion  loud  and  long, 

Oppression  led  his  legions  on  ; 
To  battle  rush'd  the  patriot  throng, 

And  soon  the  glorious  day  was  won. 
Each  bleeding  freeman  smil'd  in  deat'  : 

Flying  he  saw  his  country's  foes  ; 
And  wafted  by  his  latest  breath, 

To  Heaven  the  cheerful  paean  rose- 
Content  I  die — for  thou  art  free! 
Columbia — land  of  liberty  ! 

And  shall  we  ever  dim  the  fires, 
That  flame  on  freedom's  shrines  ! 

Shall  glory's  children  shame  their  sires  ? 
Shall  cowards  spring  from  heroes'  loins  1 

No — by  the  blood  our  fathers  shed, 
O  freedom !  in  thy  holy  cause, 


27 
IVhon  strenmin^  from  the  martyrM  dead, 

It  seaTd  and  sanctified  thy  laws — 

\\ C  swear  to  k<i«:'»  thp-"  ero^  hiu!  frcel 
Columbia — laod  of  uuetxy  . 


Said  a  Smile  to  a  Tear. 

Said  a  smile  lo  a  (<■  r, 

( hi  tli"  i  !.«■.  k  of  ii. v  dear, 
V  l.u  h  1"  am'd  like  the  sun  in  spring  weather, 

In  sooth,  lovely  te;.r, 

It  strange  (huh  appear, 
That  we  iboald  be  bothhere  together. 

I  eame  from  the  heart, 

A  soft  balm  to  impart, 
To  yonder  sad  daughter  of  grief. 

And  I,  said  the  smile, 

That  heart  now  beguile, 
Since  you  gave  the  poor  mourner  relief. 

Oh  !  then,  said  the  tear, 

Sweet  smile,  it'is  clear, 
We're  twins,  and  soft  pity  our  mother; 

And  how  lovely  that  face, 

Which  together  we  grace, 
For  the  wo  and  the  bliss  of  another. 


ODE. 

Sftng  at  the  dinner,  givefi  at  Bottom,  to  the  Officers  of 
the  United  States'  ft  'Uution,  after  the  vie- 

tory  over  the  British  frigaU  Qwtrriert* 
Britannia's  gallant  streamers 

Float  proudly  o'er  the  tide  ; 

And  fairly  wave  Columbia's  stripes, 

Id  battle,  side  by  side. 


28 

And  ne'er  did  bolder  foemen  meet, 
Where  ocean's  surges  pour. 
O'er  the  tide  now  they  ride, 
While  the  bell'wing  thunders  roar, 
While  the  cannon's  fire  is  flashing  fast, 
And  the  belFwing  thunders  roar. 

When  Yankee  meets  the  Briton, 
/Whose  blood  congenial  flows, 
By  heaven  created  to  be  frieiids, 
By  fortune  render'd  foes  ; 
Hard  then  must  be  the  battle  fray, 
Ere  well  the  fight  is  o'er, 
Now  they  ride,  side  by  side, 
While  the  bell'wing  thunders  roar, 
While  the  cannon's  fire  is  flashing  fast, 
And  the  bell'wing  thunders  roar. 

Still,  still,  for  noble  England, 
Bold  DACRES'  streamers  fly  ; 
And  for  Columbia,  gallant  HULL'S, 
As  proudly,  and  as  high. 
Now  louder  rings  the  battle  din, 
More  thick  the  volumes  pour  ; 
Still  they  ride,  side  by  side, 
While  the  bell'wing  thunders  roar, 
While  the  cannon's  fire  is  flashing  fast, 
And  the  bell'wing  thunders  roar. 

Why  lulls  Britannia's  thunder, 
That  wak'd  the  wafry  war? 
Why  stays  that  gallant  Guerriere, 
Whose  streamer  wav'd  so  fair  ? 
That  streamer  drinks  the  ocean  wave, 
That  warrior's  fight  is  o'er ; 
Still  they  ride,  side  by  side, 


29 

While  C<  ;  en  roar, 

While  her  cam  -  fast, 

And  1"  roar. 

Hark  !    'tis  thfl  i;i  I 

Ne'er  boW<  kneel'd  l 

And  ne'er  to  g  II  ml  m  i;  i:iers 
Did  brai  cv  ieam<  n  \  ield. 
Proud  be  the  sires,  whose  hardy  boys 
Tbeo  fell,  to  fight  DO  more  ; 
With  the  brave,  mid  the  wave, 
When  the  cannon's  thunders  roar, 
Their  spirits  then  shall  trim  the  blast, 
And  swell  the  thunder's  roar. 

Vain  were  the  cheers  of  Britons, 
Their  hearts  did  vainly  Bwell 
Where  virtue,  skill,  ami  bravery 
With  gallant  MORRIS  fell. 

Thai  beatt,  so  well  in  battle  try'd, 
Along  th^  Moorish  shore, 
Again,  o'er  the  main, 
When  Columbia's  thunders  roar, 
Shall  prove  its  Yankee  spirit  true, 
When  Columbia's  thunders  roar. 

Hence  be  our  floating  bulwarks, 
Those  oaks  our  mountains  yield  ; 
'Tis  mighty  heaven's  plain  decree — 
Then  take  the  wat'ry  held  ! 
To  ocean's  farthest  barrier  then 
Your  whit'ning  sail  shall  pour  ; 
Safe  they'll  ride,  o'er  the  tide, 
While  Columbia's  thunders  roar, 
While  her  cannon's  tire  is  Hashing  fast, 
And  her  Yaukee  thunders  roar. 
3* 


30 
The  Kiss. 

One  kind  kiss  before  we  part, 
Drop  a  tear,  and  bid  adieu, 

Though  we  sever,  my  fond  heart 
Till  we  meet,  shall  pant  for  you 

Yet,  yet,  weep  not  so  my  love, 
Let  me  kiss  that  falling  tear  ; 

Though  my  body  must  remove, 
All  my  soul  will  still  be  here. 

All  my  soul  and  all  my  heart, 
Ev'ry  wish  shall  pant  for  you  ; 

One  kind  kiss  then,  ere  we  part, 
Drop  a  tear,  and  bid  adieu. 


Auld  Lang  Syne. 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  never  brought  to  min'  ? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  days  o'  langsyne  ? 

Chorus — For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear, 
For  auld  lang  syne, 
AVe'll  tak'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 
For  auld  lang  syne. 

We  twae  hae  run  about  the  braes, 

And  pu'd  the  gowan3  fine  ; 
But  we've  wandered  mony  &  weary'  foot 

Sin*  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  &c, 


31 

We  twae  h  w  pakBet  i'  the  bum, 
Fit  moroill  sun  till  dine  : 

But  seas  between  Qfl  braid  hae  roar'd, 
Sin*  auld  lang  syne. 

For  laid,  kc. 

And  here's  I  hand,  my  trusty  fiere, 

And  pie's  a  hand  o'  thine  ; 
And  we'll  lak1  a  right  gude  wille-  waught 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  kc. 

And  surely  yell  be  your  pint  stowp, 

And  surely  I'll  be  mine  ; 
And  we'll  t.ik'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 

For  auld  laog  syne. 

For  auld,  kc 


Thine  am  I. 
Thine  am  I,  my  faithful  fair, 

Thine,  my  loveiy  Nancj  ; 
Ev'ry  pulse  along  my  veins, 
Ev'ry  roving  fancy. 

To  thy  bosom  lay  my  heart, 
There  to  throb  and  languish  ; 

Tho'  despair  had  wrung  its  core, 
That  would  heal  its  anguish. 

Take  away  those  rosy  lips, 
Rich  with  balmy  treasure  ; 

Turn  away  thine  eyes  of  love, 
Le-st  I  die  with  pleasure. 

What  is  life  when  wanting  love  ! 

Night  without  a  morning  : 
Love's  the  cloudless  summer  sua, 

Nature  gay  adorning. 


32 
The  Braes  of  Balquhither. 

Air — u  The  three  Carls  o'  Buchanan," 
Let  us  go,  lassie,  go 

To  the  braes  of  Balquhither, 
Where  the  blae-berries  grow 

Mang  bonnie  Highland  heather ; 
Where  the  deer  and  the  rae, 

Lightly  bounding  together, 
Sport  the  lang  summer  day 

On  the  braes  of  Balquhither. 

I  will  twine  thee  a  bow'r, 

By  the  clear  siller  fountain, 
And  I'll  cover  it  o'er 

Wi'  the  flow'rs  o'  the  mountain  ; 
I  will  range  through  the  wilds. 

And  the  deep  glens  sae  dreary, 
And  return  wi1  their  spoils 

To  the  bow'r  o*  my  deary. 

When  the  rude  wintry  win* 

Idly  raves  round  our  dwelling, 
And  the  roar  of  the  linn 

On  the  night  breeze  is  swelling, 
So  merrily  we'll  sing 

As  the  storm  rattles  o'er  us, 
Till  the  dear  sheeling  ring 

Wi'  the  light  lilting  chorus. 
Now  the  summer  is  in  prime 

Wi5  the  flow'rs  richly  blooming, 
And  the  wild  mountain  thyme, 

A'  the  moorland  perfuming  • 
To  our  dear  native  scenes 

Let  us  journey  together. 
Where  glad  innocence  reign' 

'Mang  the  braes  of  Balquhitkflr, 


83 

The  Echo. 

Tell  me,  babbling  echo,  why 
You  return  me  Blgh  lor  sigh  ; 
Whilst  I  of  sli  \htei  love  complain, 
You  delight  to  mock  my  pain. 

Bold  intruder,  night  and  day, 
Busy  tell-tale  haste  away  ; 
Me  and  my  cares  in  silence  leave- 
Come  not  near  me  while  I  grieve. 

But  should  my  swain  with  all  his  charms 
Return  to  clasp  me  in  his  arms 
I'd  call  thee  from  the  dark  retreat, 
The  joyful  tidings  to  repeat. 

Repeat,  repeat,  repeat  the  strain, 
Sing  it  o'er  and  o'er  again  ; 
From  morn  till  eve  prolong  the  tale, 
Let  it  sing  from  vale  to  vale. 


Why  should  I  Repine. 

0  why  the  deuce  should  I  repine, 
And  be  an  ill  foreboder  ; 

I'm  twenty-three,  and  five  feet  nine, 
I'll  go  and  be  a  sodger. 

1  gat  some  gear  wi'  my  meikle  care, 

I  held  it  weel  thegither: 
But  now  ifsgane,  and  something  mair, 
I'll  go  and  be  a  sodger. 


34 

Barney  leave  the  Girls  alone. 

Judy  leads  me  such  a  life  !  (repeat) 
The  devil  ne'er  had  such  a  wife  ; 

What  can  the  matter  be  ? 
For,  if  I  sing  the  funny  song 
Of  Dolly  put  the  kettle  on, 
She's  mocking  at  me  all  day  long ; 

What  can  the  matter  be  ? 
Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone  !  (repeat) 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 

And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 
Put  the  muffins  down  to  roast,  (repeat) 
Blow  the  tire  and  make  the  toast  • 

We'll  all  take  tea. 
Barney  you're  a  wicked  boy,  (repeat) 
And  you  do  always  play  and  toy 

With  all  the  gals  you  see. 
Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone  i  (repeat) 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 

And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 
Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone !  (repeat) 
Why  don't  you  >eave  the  girls  alone, 

And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 
Barney  rock  the  cradle,  O  )   (repeat) 
Or  else  you'll  get  the  ladle  O  ! 

When  Judy  harps  to-day. 

Spoken, — Barney,  rock  that  crr.dle,  or  I'll  break 
Four  pate  with  the  ladle  ;  yes,  you  dog,  if  you  don't 
jiind  your  P's  and  Q/s,  I'll  comb  3  ^ur  head  with  a 
three-legged  stool.  You  see,  the  other  afternoon  I 
jvas  ax'dout  to  take  a  comfortable  dish  of  four  si  tilling 
*houchong  tea,  and  I  sat  alongside  of  Miss  Polly 
Spriggins  ;  I  saw  she  got  quite  smittea  with  my 
^ountenance — says  she  to  me,  Mr.  Barnej    will  you 


to 

hare  R  jrnmo  of  hunt  the  slipper  ?   With  all  mv  heart, 

lays  I,  then  mj  wife  bawled  out,  from  the  other  end 

oi  the  parlour, 

Mr.  Barney  le  ire  Ihe  (;'r!s  alone,  (repeat) 

Why  don't  you  le  11  :ie, 

And  lei  thetn  qniet  be  ? 

Judy  ihe  .  ,  O  !    (repeat) 

She  goes  to  ancle's  shop  at  night, 

And  spendsan  hour  or  two  ; 
Then,  Barney,  what  mu*t  Barney  do^ 
Bat  take  a  drop  of  whiskey  too, 
And  toast  the  <^i t1  that's  kind  and  true  ! 
For  that's  the  way  with  me. 
Spoken. — Yea,  that  is  the  way  we  go,  to  be  sure, 
and  to  say  the  truth  on  it,  it  i«  none  of  the  pleasant- 
est.     You  see  1  loves  a  good  dinner,  but  some  how 
or  other  we  don't  get  much  in  the  week  days,  a  pig's 
foot  and   a  carrot,  no  great  choice  ;  but   on  Sunday 
we   always   have  a  shoulder  of  mutton  stuck  round 
with  turnips. — 1  Idee  a  piece  of  the  brown,  but  my 
wife,  >he  always  tacks  me  off  with  the  knuckle  bone 
or  the  shoulder iblade,  or  a  piece  of  the  dry  flap,  to 
i/\e  tune  of 

Mr.  Barney  learr  %\  c  ^irls  alone!   (?  "peat) 
Why  don't  yea  leave  the  girls  alone  t 
And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 

Croos-Keen  Lawn. 

Jls  sung  bij  Mr  Mathews  in  Youthful  Days, 
Let  the  farmer  praise  his  grounds, 

As  the  huntsman  does  his  hounds, 

Aud  the  shepherd  his  sweet  scented  lawn, 
While  I  more  blest  than  they, 
Spend  each  happy  night  and  day 


36 

Wifli  my  smiling  little  Croos-keen  lawn,  law* 
lawn, 

Oh,  my  smiling  little  Croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma  Croos-keen 
Sleante  gar  ma  voor  ineh  neen 
Agus  gramachree  ma  cooleen  ban,  ban,  ban, 
Agus  gramachree  ma  cooleen  ban. 

In  court  with  manly  grace, 
Should  Sir  Toby  plade  his  case, 

And  the  merits  of  his  cs.use  make  known, 
Without  his  cheerful  glass, 
He'd  be  stupid  as  an  ass, 

So  he  takes  a  little  Croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma,  &c. 

Then.. fill  your  glasses  high, 
Let's  not  part  with  lips  so  dry, 

Though  the  lark  should  proclaim  it  is  dawn- 
But  if  we  can't  remain, 
May  we.shortly  meet  again, 

To  fill  another  Croos-Jseen  lawn. 
Leante,  ruma,  &c. 

And  when  grim  death  appears, 
After  few,  but  happy  years, 

And  tf  lis  me  my  glass  it  is  run, 
I'll  say,  hegone  you  slave, 
For  great  Bacchus  gives  me  lave 

Just  to  fill  another  Croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma,  kc. 


37 

T!ie  Crying  Family, 

UK  THE  MISERIES  OF  ANTICO  ATION 

jfj  snug  by  Mr.  Morris. — Tunc,  Boli  ttnd  Joaa. 
Then  lived,  as  I've  hoard  say, 

i  to  a  running  water, 
An  old  man  and  his  wile, 

Who  hid  a  beauteous  daughter-** 

Gay,  charming,  virtuous,  fair, 
A  young  man  loved  her  dearly — 

They  often  wandered  there, 

Through  groves  and  fields  of  barley. 
Uitol  lol  lura  la,  kc. 

We'll  leave  them  here  awhile, 

And  wait  on  the  old  lady, 
Good  people  you  may  smile — 

Says  she  M  As  quick  as  may  be, 
11  I'll  take  the  water-pail, 

11  And  fetch  a  pail  of  water.' 
And  musing  as  she  went, 

She  thought  upon  her  daughter. 
Ritol  lol  lura  la,  &c* 

Her  old  man  John  was  there* 

To  realize  his  wishes, 
With  rod,  and  line,  and  tlief , 

To  catch  the  little  fishes  ; 
Quite  tranquil  in  his  mind, 

Upon  a  bank  there  lying, 
He  turned  his  head  behind, 

And  saw  's  old  wife  a  crying. 

Kitol  lol  lura  la,  &,0. 
4 


"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Kate  ? 

"  Nay,  what's  the  matter,  woman  ? 
u  What's  running  in  your  pate  ? 

"  Is't  something  more  than  common  V9 
"  Ah,  John  !"  poor  Katy  cries, 

"  I've  got  a  troubled  fancy — 
" 1  heard  the  water  roar, 

"  And  thought  upon  our  Nancy  ! 
Kitol  lol  lura  la,  &,c. 

"  If  Tom  and  Nan  should  wed, 

"  And  such  a  thing  there  may  be, 
"  And  marriage  may  bring  forth 

"A  prattling  little  baby — 
"  And  when  the  baby  walks, 

"  And  just  begins  to  paddle, 
"  By  chance  it  may  come  here, 

"  And  in~the  water  waddle  !" 

Ritol  lol  lura  la,  kc* 

11  Aye,  Katy,  very  true, 

"  The  baby  may  be  drowned,  and 
"  Cast  upon  the  shore, 

"  Then  afterwards  be  found,  and 
u  Buried  it  may  be, 

"  That's  common  after  dying, 
M  Poor,  pretty  sweet  baby  !" 

And  then  began  a  crying. 

Ritol  lol  lura  la,  &c, 

Perhaps  it  might  be  fate 

That  brought  the  lovers  walking, 
Who  heard  old  John  and  Kate 

Both  crying  in  their  talking ; 
They  ask'd  the  reason  why 

And  wherefore  they  did  cry  sot 


Then  both  together  ban  I 

That  such  b  babe  should  die  so 
B  tol  lol  lura  hi,  &c. 

Thej  nil  sat  on  the  gi  een, 

While  Katv  told  the  tale  O, 
And  oe*er  was  he  ird  01  - 

How  they  did  weep  and  wail  O, 
They  all  went  crying  home, 

Tom,  oh!  man,  wife,  and  daughter, 
Each  flight  the  gh<  raie 

And  cry  upon  the  v. 
Spoken, — Ah,  ]»cor  little  baby  ghost !  thnt  never 
was  horn,  comes  every  night  when  the  moon  shines 
bright,  puts  its  little  finger  in  its  < :yo,  and  begins  to 
cry —  ftitol  lol  lura  la,  .Vc. 

Cobbler  nnd  Goose. 

A  Cobbler  lived  at  York, 
A  merry  man  was  he  ; 
His  wife  took  in  needle  work, 

A  good  kind  soul  was  she. 
Easy  as  an  old  shoe 

They  pass'd  their  lives  together, 
All  of  a  piece,  'tis  f 

Like  sole  and  ither. 

Spoken. — They    w«  :ouple,  worked 

oard,  and  never  grumbled  at  the  times,  or  at  each 
other,  that's  a  rare  thing  in  our  days  :  while  she 
nimbly  employed  her  needle,  lie  hammered,  away  at 
the  !ap-stone,  and  sung  Ran,- tan,  tan,tao,&,c. 

The  cobbler  bought  a  soose, 

And  fattened  it  quite  high, 
Somehow  the  bird  got  lo 


40 

The  day  it  was  to  die  ; 
1  Here,  Pegs,'  bawled  out  the  wife, 

*  R,un  after  the  goose  to  win  her!' 
Goosey  she  ran  for  her  life, 

And  the  cobbler  ran  after  his  dinner. 
Spoken.—  Away  he  went,  and  the  boys  after  him, 
Calling  out,  '  Now  cobbler — now  goose  :  two  to  one 
on  Pegs  V  Egad,  he  almost  caught  her  once  when 
his  foot  slipped,  and  headlong  he  went  into  the  stye, 
among  a  litter  of  pigs,  and  only  saved  his  bacon  by 
leaving  the  tail  of  his  coat  in  the  old  sow's  grinders. 
But  Pegs  wasn't  to  be  abashed,  he  followed  her 
through  bush  and  briar,  bogs  and  quagmires,  over 
houses,  trees,  hedges,  ditches,  fields,  cats,  dogs, 
cocks,  hens,  cows,  bulls,  and  pigs.  At  last  he  knock- 
ed down  the  stall  of  an  old  woman  who  sold  hot  ap- 
ple dumplings — that  made  a  rare  scramble  for  the 
boys  ;  and  what  could  they  do  but  sing 

R.an,  tan,  tan,  &c. 

By  the  river  he  seized  her  rump, 

But  she  got  loose  with  a  scream, 
And  he  fell  in  the  water  plump, 

While  goosey  cross'd  the  stream. 
So  finding  the  chase  no  use, 

He  went  home  in  a  shiver, 
Told  wifey  he'd  lost  the  goose, 

But  got  a  fine  duck  in  the  river. 

Spolcen. — ■  Oh,  wife,  wife !'  he  cried,  ■  I've  had  my 
morning's  wet;  the  goose  has  gone  a  gander  hunt- 
ing.— 1  was  thrown  out,  and  had  fairly  a  tumbling  in, 
Desides  leaving  half  my  jacket  in  pawn  in  the  pigge- 
ry ;  my  wild  goose  chase  has  turned  out  a  duck,  nut 
no  green  peas,  and  as  I  am  very  wet,  you  ma*  as 
well  hand  us  over  a  drop  of        Ran,  tan,  tan  <ks^ 


G  i  J  < 

Giles  Scr  own, 

Fol  lol  de  Si  de  i   I 

The  f.urcM  wench  in  all  the  town, 

Fol  de  rol  dc  ml  de  rol  d 

He  bought  a  ring  with  posy  true, 

If  J  oil  1  >  ■  ou, 

No  knife  shall  cut  our  love  in  tr/o, 

Fol  lul  de  nddle  lol  de  ra. 

But  scissors  cut  as  well  as  knives,  I  oi  lol,  &c. 
And  quite  uncertain  is  onr  lives,  Fol  lol,  &.c. 
The  day  they  were  to  have  been  wed, 
Fate's  scissors  cut  poor  Giles's  thread, 
So  they  could  not  be  married,  Fol  lol  &c. 

Poor  Mary  laid  her  down  to  weep,   Fol  lo!,  &.c. 
And  cried  herself  quite  fast  asleep,  Fol  lol,  k,c. 
When  standing  all  by  the  bed  p 
A  figure  tall  her  sight  engross'd, 

And  it  cried,  1  beCnle^Scio^in^1  ghost,  I  oi  loi,  otc. 

The  ghost  it  said  all  solemnly,  Fol  lol,  kc 

0  Molly  you  umst  go  with  I,  Fol  lol  fee. 
All  to  the  grave  your  love  to  cool, 
Sajl  she,  1  am  not  dead  you  Too.. 

Says  the  ghost  says  he,  vy  that's  no  rule,  Fol  lo;,  v 

The  ghost  he  seizYi  her  all  so  grim,  Fol  lol,  kc. 
All  for  to  go  along  with  him,  Fol  loi,  -    . 
Come,  come,  said  he,  ere  morning  beam, 

1  Tont,  she  cried,  and  guv'd  a  scream  ; 

Then  she  'woke  and  found  she'd  dream't  a  dree-** 
All  about,  Fol  lol  de  riddle  Vol  de  ra. 


42 

Honey  and  Mustard. 

Sir  Jerry  Go-Nimble,  was  lame  of  a  leg, 

Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle  dee, 
And  my  Lady  Go-Nimble  had  barely  one  peg  ; 

For  a  very  old  lady  was  she. 
Sir  Jerry,  when  married,  was  just  twenty-two  ; 
My  lady  fourscore,  when  Sir  J.  came  to  woo  : 
As  ugly  as  Polc6,  but  as  rich  as  a  Jew. 

Spoken. — How  we  used  to  laugh  at  the  old  crea- 
ture, when  she  used  to  sing, 

Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle,  hey  diddle  dee, 

Sing  hey  diddle,  ho  diddle  dee. 

At  the  wedding,  my  lady  was  ask'd  for  a  song, 

Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle  dee  ; 
"Oh,"  says  she,  "  to  comply  I'll  not  hesitate  long, 

But  I  own  Tm  not  quite  in  the  key." 
Then  she  gave  a  queer  look,  'twixt  a  squint  and 

a  grin, 
And  screw'd  up  her  snuff-colour'd    lips  to  begin- 
Like  two  bellows-handles  she  moved  nose  and  chin 
(Spoken.)     When  she  sung — 

What's  life  without  passion  ? 

Sweet  passion  of  love  ! 

Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle,  hey  diddle  dee,  Lc. 

This  pair  of  true  lovers  they  iiv'd  upon  love, 

Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle  dee  ; 
And  the  honey-moon  lasted  a  week  and  above, 

And  then  'twas  all  mustard  for  she. 
Sir  Jerry  was  fond  of  his  cards,  dice  and  hits, 
And  my  lady  fell  into  historical  fits, 
And  for  cruelty  drank  herself  out  Gf  her  w:U. 


43 

Spoken.)  Poor  soul !  ihe  wandered  about  like 
Crazy  Jane,  With  a  ^vi«p  of  straw  in  one  hand,  and 
a  brandy  bottle  in  the  other, 

Singing — He  was  false,  and  Tm  undone — 

Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle,  hey  diddle  dee,  &c. 

At  last  by  this  sad  h  .  lie  died, 

Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle  dee  ; 
And  i.  it  came  by  Jerry's  bed  side, 

ing,  Ja>t  !   for  I'm  come  lor  thee  ! 
Sir  Jerry  he  bid  ILmself  trader  the  clothes, 
Bat  the  ghost  very  soon  pulTd  him  out  by  the  toes, 
Threw  him  out  of  the  window,  and  cried,  "  there  he 

goes  1" 

(Spoken.)       And   there   he   went,  sure  enough, 
ing — 
Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle,  hey  diddle  dee, 
Hey  diddle,  ho  diddle  dee. 


The  Hunter's  Horn. 

Swift  from  the  covert  the  merry  pack  fled, 

While  bounding,  there  sprang  over  valley  and  mead, 

Wide  spreading  his  antlers,  erected  his  head, 

The  stag,  his  enemiel  scorning. 
Oh, had  you  seen  then  through  valley,  through  brake, 
Each  sportsman,  right  gallant,  his  rival  race  take, 
'T would  have  pleas/ d   beauty's  ear  to  have  heard 
echo  wake 

To  the  hunter's  horn  in  the  morning. 

Clear'd  was  the  forest,  the  mountains  passM  o'er, 
While  swiftly  their  riders  the  willing  steeds  here 


44 

The  river  roll'd  deep,  while  the  stag  spurn 'd  the 
shore, 

Yet  ovvn'd  no  timorous  warning. 
So  close  was  he  followed,  the  foam  where  he  sprung 
Encircled  and  sparkled  the  coursers  among, 
While  the  dogs  of  the  chase  their  rude  melody  rung. 

To  the  hunter's  horn  iu  the  morning. 


The  Knight  Errant. 

It  was  Dunois  the  young  and  brave, 

Was  bound  for  Palestine, 
But  first  he  made  his  orisons 

Before  St.  Mary's  shrine  : 
And  grant,  immortal  queen  of  Heav'n, 

Was  still  the  soldier's  prayer, 
That  I  may  prove  the  bravest  knight, 

And  love  the  fairest  fair  ! 

His  oath  of  honour  on  the  shrine 

He  grav'd  it  with  his  sword, 
And  followed  to  the  Holy  Land 

The  banner  of  his  lord  : 
When  faithful  to  his  noble  vow, 

His  war-cry  fill'd  the  air — 
Be  honour'd  aye  the  bravest  knight, 

Belov'd  the  fairest  fair ! 

They  owe  the  conquest  to  his  arm, 
And  then  his  liege  lord  said — 

The  heart  that  has  for  honour  beat, 
By  bliss  must  be  repaid. 

My  daughter  Isabel,  and  thou 
Shall  be  a  wedded  pair, 


43 

For  thon  art  bravest  of  tin  orave, 
She  fairest  of  Che  fair  ! 

And  then  they  bound  the  holy  knot, 

Before  St.  Mary's  shrine, 
Which  makes  a  paradise  on  earth, 

When  hearts  and  bands  combiue. 
And  every  lord  and  lady  bright, 

That  was  in  chapel  there, 
Cried,  Honoured  be  the  bravest  knight, 

Lelov'd  the  fairest  lair  ! 


Madame  Vandercrout. 

Ma'am  Vandercrout,  her  weeds  quite  new, 
Fifty,  and  richer  than  a  Jew  ; 
With  voice  of  raven,  and  an  eye 
Might  with  the  coddled  gooseberry  vie. 
Fair  as  bull-beef — and  then  a  form 
Lovely  as  porpoise  in  a  storm  ! 
A  ton  of  flesh,  with  gold  hoops  bound, 
Just  four  feet  high,  and  six  feet  round. 
Thus  form'd,  thus  featur'd,  and  thus  fae'd, 
Her  person  and  her  parse  thus  grae'd  ; 
No  wonder  lovers  swarmM  about 
The  charming  Madam  Vandercrout. 

A  lawyer  begg'd  his  cause  to  plead, 
Said,  if  he  lik'd  each  title  deed^ 
'Twixt  Hymen,  him,  and  her,  that  night 
He'd  draw  indenture  tripartite. 
Come,  come,  said  she,  my  man  of  law, 
In  your  proceedings  there's  a  flaw. 
My  goods  and  chattels  you'd  convey — 


46 

Please  to  convey  yourself  away. 
You  plead  in  vain,  the  trial's  past, 
You're  nonsuited,  ejected,  cast ; 
You're  ignoramus'd,  and  thrown  out,  ' 
Then  sue  not  Madam  Vandercrout. 

An  Irish  Jolmon  swore  away, 
He'd  love  for  ever  and  a  day  ; 
And,  if  she'd  him  for  a  husband  have, 
Her  lord  and  master  were  her  slave. 
Paddy,  you've  made  a  bull,  cried  she, 
You  want  to  make  a  slave  of  me  ; 
I'm  his  who  for  my  person  seeks, 
Sure  'nt  you  Irishmen  all  Greeks  ? 
Nothing  but  loss  with  you  I'd  gain  ; 
No  never,  with  your  seven's  the  main. 
'Mongst  Pharaoh's  host,  shall  fly  abou* 
The  cash  of  Madam  Vandercrout. 

An  auctioneer,  a  cunning  dog. 
Of  her  charms  had  made  a  catalogue  ; 
With  small  talk  keeping  still  a  din, 
So  he  should  like  to  buy  her  in. 
Indeed  !  cried  she,  by  fortune  cross'd, 
Must  I  then  wed  to  who  bids  most ! 
My  person  to  the  hammer  brought, 
And  put  up  like  a  scurvy  lot  ? 
Begone,  sir  !  with  a  frown, 
Without  reserve  I'll  knock  y^u  down. 
'Tis  heart  for  heart,  you  babbling  lout 
Must  purchase  Madame  Vandercrout. 

Thus  lover  after  lover  came, 

The  fortune  courting,  not  the  dame. 


47 

Which  fortune  rather  than  enthral, 

She  vowM  she  would  not  wed  at  all. 
This  concliK  I'l  giTCn  B  hundr<  d  names  ; 
Some  say  she  drinks,  and  BO  Q€  she 
But  uone  have  hit  the  truth,  not  on 
The  fact  is,  she  has  married  John. 
John's  tall  and  comely,  and  beside, 
She  knew  him  ere  her  husband  died. 
And  now  the  hisfry's  fairly  out, 
Of  lovely  Madauie  Vandercrout. 


Oh!    Cruel. 

Dh !  cruel  were  my  parents  as  tore  my  love  from  me, 
And  cruel  was  the  press-gang  who  took  him  otFto  sea, 
And  cruel  was  the  little  boat  as  rowed  him  from  the. 

strand, 
And  cruel  was  the  great  big  ship  as  sailed  him  from 

the  land. 
Singing  too  rol  loo  rol  loo  rol,  too  rol  !oo  rol  loo* 

Oh  !  cruel  was  the  water  as  bore  her  love  from  Mary, 
And  cruel  was  the  fair  wind  as  would'ntblowcorrtrar}', 
And  cruel  was  the  captain,  boatswain,  and  the  men, 
As  did'nt  care  a  fardin,  if  we  never  met  again. 
Singing  too  rol,  &c. 

Oh  !  cruel  was  tne  splinter  as  broke  my  deary's  leg, 
Now  he's  obliged  to  fiddle  for't,  and  I'm  oblig'd  to  beg. 
A  vagabonding  vagrant,  and  a  rantipoling  wife, 
We  riddle,  limp,  and  scrape  it,  through  the  ups  and 
downs  of  life. 

Singing  too  rol,  &c. 


48 

Oh !  cruel  was  th'  engagement  in  which  my  true  love 

fought, 
And  cruel  was  the  cannon-ball  as  knock'd  his  right 

eye  out  ; 
He  us'd  to  leer  and  ogle  me,  with  peepers  full  of 

fun, 
But  now  he  looks  askew  at  me,  because  he's  only 

one. 

Singing  too  rol,  &c. 

My  love  he  plays  the  fiddle,  and  wanders  up  and 

down, 
And  I  sings  at  his  elbow,  through  all  the  streets  in 

town  ; 
We  spends  our  days  in  harmony,  and  wcry  seldom 

fights, 
Except  when  he's  his  grog  aboard,  or  I  gets  queer 

at  nights. 

Singing  too  rol,  &,c. 

Then  ladies  all  take  warning  by  my  true  love  and 

me, 
Though  cruel  fate  should  cross  you,  remember 

constancy  ; 
Like  *ne  you'll  be  rewarded,  and  have  your  heart's 

delight, 
With  fiddiing  in  a  morning,  and  a  drop  of  gin  all 
night. 

Singing  too  rol,  &c. 


49 


The  Pleasures  of  Kissing. 

There's  something  in  IdsJ  not  tell  why, 

Makes  my  heart  in  a  tumult,  jump  more  than  breast 
high  ; 

For  nine  times  in  ten, 
So  Letting 
And  pleating, 
IVe  find  those  rude  creatures,  the  dear  kissing  men, 
That  we  wish  it  repeated  again  and  again. 

Though  a  kiss  stop  my  breath,  oh  !  how  little  care  I, 
Since  a  woman  at  some  time  or  other  must  die  ! 
For  nine  times  in  ten, 
So  teasing 
And  pleasing, 
We  find  those  rude  creatures,  the  dear  kissing  men, 
I /hat  we  wish  it  repeated  again  and  again. 


Perry's    Victory* 

O'er  the  bosom  of  Erie  in  fanciful  pride, 
Did  the  fleet  of  old  England  exultingly  ride; 
Till  the  tlag  of  Columbia  her  Ferry  unfurl'd, 
The  boast  of  the  west,  and  the  pride  of  the  worM. 

The  spirit  of  Lawrence  his  influence  sheds, 
To  the  van  of  the  fight,  while  theLawrence  he  leads  ; 
Tbere  death  dealt  around,  tho'such  numbers  oppose, 
&id  levelled  the  gun  at  fair  liberty's  foes. 


Y<rhen  covered  with  slain,  from  his  decks  he  withdrew* 
And  left  the  Niagara  the  fight  to  renew  ; 
Where,  undaunted  in  danger,  our  sea-beaten  tars 
O'er  the  cross  of  St.  George  wav'd  the  stripes  and 
the  stars. 

Six  ships,  while  our  banners  triumphantly  flew, 
Submitted  to  tars  who  were  born  to  subdue  ; 
When  they  rush'd  to  the  battle,  resolv'd  to  maintain 
The  freedom  of  trade,  and  our  right  to  the  main  ! 

With  the  glory  of  conquest  our  heroes  are  crown'd, 
Let  their  brows  with  the  bright  naval  chaplet  be 

bound  ! 
For  still  should  the  foe  dare  the  fight  to  sustain, 
Gallant  Perry  shall  lead  them  to  conquest  again. 


Sam   Jones. 

It  was  Sam  Jones,  the  Fisherman,  was  bound  frr 

Sandy  Hook, 
But  first  upon  his  Almanack  a  solemn  oath  he  took  ; 
And  grant  the  tide  may  only  serve,  was  still  the 

pray'r  of  Sam's, 
That  I  may  have  good  luck  to-night,  and  catch  a 

load  of  clams  ! 

His  vow  thus  made,  he  took  a  spike,  and  wrote  it  on 

the  door  ; 
And  off  he  sail'd  for  Sandy  Hook,  along  the  Jersey 

shore  ! 
When  faithful  to  his  promise,  there  he  only  took 

two  drams  ! 
Be  honour'd  sober  Sammy  Jones,  that  catch'd  a  load 

of  clams. 


51 

They  owe  the  lux'ry  to  his  tongs,  and  Kitty  Cranv. 
mer  said, 

"  The  man  that  workM  so  hard  last  night,  shall  ne- 
ver want  for  bread — 

In  yonilor  hut  we  both  will  live  as  innocent  as  lambs, 

For  thou  art  sure  the  greatest  man  that  ever  fifh'd 
for  clams  \n 

And  then   before  the  nearest   'squire,  they  tied  the 

marriage  noose, 
Which  is  a  thing  that  death  has  power  alone  to  set 

it  loose  ; 
And  all  the  folks  near  Sandy  Hook,  and  ev'ry  friend 

of  Sam's, 
Cried,  "  honour'd  be  the  greatest  man  that  ever 

fish'd  for  clams. " 


THE  SAILOR'S  LAST  WHISTLE. 
Whether  sailor  or  not,  for  a  moment  avast, 
Poor  Jack's  mizen-topsail  is  laid  to  the  mast ; 
He'll  never  turn  out,  or  more  heave  the  lead, 
He's  now  all  aback,  nor  will  sails  shoot  ahead  ; 
Yet  though  worms  gnaw  his  timbers,  his  vessel's  a 

wreck, 
When  he   hears  the  last  whistle,  he'll  jump  upon 

deck  ! 

Secur'd  in  his  cabin,  he's  moor'd  in  his  grave, 
Nor  hears  any  more  the  loud  roar  of  the  wave  ; 
Press'd  by  death,  he  is  sent  to  the  tender  below, 
Where  seamen  and  lubbers  must  every  one  go. 
Yet  tho'  worms,  &c. 


52 

With  h\$  frame  a  mere  hulk,  and  his  reck'ning  on 

board, 
At  length  he  dropp'd  down  to  mortality's  road  ; 
With  eternity's  ocean  before  him  in  view, 
He  cheerfully  popt  out,"  my  messmates,  adieu  1" 
For  tho'  worms,  &c. 


The   Shoulder  Knot. 
John  tripp'd  up  stairs  by  the  night, 

Heigh  ho  !    to  Betty  got ; 
John  tripp'd  up  stairs  by  the  night, 
Slily,  without  candle  light. 

Cries  Bet,  who's  there  ? 
;Tis  1,  my  dear, 
Johnny,  with  his  shoulder  knot; 

What  did  foolish  Betty  do  ? 

Heigh  ho  !  she  knew  not  what ; 
What  did  foolish  Betty  do  ? 
Lifts  the  latch — in  he  flew ! 
When  he  kiss'd, 
Could  she  resist 
Johnny  with  his  shoulder  knot  ? 

Madam  Maudlin  soon  found  out, 
Heigh  ho  !  'poor  Betty's  lot ; 
Madam  Maudlin  soon  found  out. 
What's  this,  says  she,  you've  been  about  ? 
Betty  cries, 
And  wipes  her  eyes, 
The  deuce  is  in  his  shoulder  knot. 


i 


53 
Nothing  true  but  Heaven. 

This  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show, 
For  man's  illusion  given  ; 

milefl  of  Joy,  the  tears  of  Wo, 

Dacekful  .shine,  deceitful  llow — 
There's  nothing  true  but  Heaven! 

And  false  the  light  on  Glory's  plume, 

As  fading  hues  of  even  ; 
And  Love,  and  Hope,  and  Beauty's  bloom, 
Are  blossoms  gathered  for  the  tomb— 

There's  nothing  bright  but  Heaven  I 

Poor  wanderers  of  a  stormy  day  I 

From  wave  to  >va\e  we're  driven; 
And  Fancy's  flash,  and  Reason's  ray, 
Serve  but  to  light  the  troubled  way — 
T here's  nothing  calm  but  Heaverj  1 


Tyrolese  Song  of  liberty. 
Merrily  every  bosom  b*^  jdeth, 

Mer  Jy  oh  !  Merrily  oh  J 
Whers  thesocg  of  f  .cdora  soundeth, 

7'^rrilyoh!  Merrily     h.1 
Where  the  J3|g*'  freedom  soundeth, 

Merrily  oh  !  Merrily  oh  I 
There  the  warrior's  arms 
Shed  more  splendour ; 
There  the  maiden's  charms 
Shine  more  tender  : 
Every  joy  the  land  surroundeth, 

Merrily  oh  1  Merrily  oh  1 
Merrily,  merrily,  merrily,  merrily,    merrily, 
merrily  oh!         Merrily  oh  !  Merrily  oh! 


54 

Wearily  every  bosom  pineth, 

Wearily  oh  1  Wearily  oh! 
Where  the  bond  of  slavery  twineth, 

Wearily  oh  !  Wearily  oh  I 
There  the  warrior's  dart 

Hath  no  fleetness  ; 
There  the  maiden's  heart 
Hath  no  sweetness  ; 
Every  flower  of  life  declinetb, 

Wearily  oh !  Wearily  oh  J 
Wearily,  wearily,  &c. 

Cheerily  then  from  hill  and  valley, 

Cheerily  oh!  Cheerily  ob! 
Like  your  native  fountains  sally, 

Cheerily  oh  !  Cheerily  oh ! 
If  a  glorious  death 

Won  by  bravery, 
Sweeter  be  than  breath 
Sigh'd  in  slavery  ; 
Round  the  flag  of  freedom  rally, 

Cheerily  oh  !  Cheerily  oh  ! 
Cheerily,  cheerily,  &c. 


I  Knew  by  the  Smoke. 
I  knew  by  the  smoke  that  so  gracefully  curl'd 

Around  the  green  elms,  that  a  cottage  was  near* 
And  I  said, %t  If  theres  peace  to  be  found  in  the  work* 

The  heart  that  is  humble  might  hope  for  it  here. 

'Twas  noon,  and  on  flowers  that  languishM  around, 
In  silence  repos'd  the  voluptuous  bee  ; 

Ev'ry  leaf  was  at  rest,  and  1  heard  not  a  sound, 
But  the  woodpecker  tapping  the  hollow  btech  tre  ■*. 


55 

And  l*  here  in  this  lone  little  wood,"  I  exclaknM, 
M  With  I  maid  who  was  lovely  to  soul  and  to  eve. 

Who   would   blush  when  I  prais'd  her,  aod   weep 
when  I  blarnM, 
How  blest  could  I  live,  and  how  calm  could  I  die. 

By  the  shade  of  yon  sumach,  whose   red  berry  clips 
In  the  gush  of  the  fountain,  how  sweet  to  recline, 

And  to  know  that  I  sigh'd  upon  innocent  lips, 

Which  had  never  been  sigh'd  on  by  any  but  mine. 


Let  Fame  Sound  the  Trumpet. 

Let  Fame  sound  the  trumpet,  and  cry  to  the  war 

Let  Glory  re-echo  the  strain  ; 
The  full  tide  of  honour  may  flow  from  the  scar, 

And  herces  may  smile  in  their  pain. 

The  treasures  of  Autumn  let  Bacchus  display, 

And  stagger  about  ita  his  bowl ; 
On  science  let  Sol  beam  the  lustre  of  day, 

And  wisdom  give  light  to  the  soul. 

Let  India  unfold  her  rich  gems  to  the  view, 

Each  virtue,  each  joy  to  improve  ; 
O,  give  me  the  friend   that  I  know  tc  be  true, 

And  the  fair  that  I  tenderly  love. 

What's  glory  but  pride  !  a  vain  bubble  is  fime, 

And  riot  the  |  Measures  of  wine  ; 
What's  riches  but  trouble  !   and  title's  a  name. 

But  friendship  and  love  are  divine. 


56 

Sprig  of  Shelelagh. 
Oh  !  love  is  the  soul  of  a  neat  Irishman, 
He  loves  all  that's  lovely — loves  all  that  he  can, 
With  his  Sprig  of  Shelelagh  and  Shamrock  so  green ; 
His  heart  is  right  honest,  'tis  open  and  sound  ; 
No  malace  or  envy  is  there  to  be  found, 
He  courts  and  he  marries,  he  drinks  and  he  fights, 
He  loves,  oh  !  he  loves,  for  in  that  he  delights, 
With  his  Sprig  of  Shelelagh  and  Shamrock  so  green. 

Who  has  e'er  had  the  luck  to  see  Donnybrook  fair, 
An  Irishman  all  in  his  glory  is  there, 
With  his  Sprig  of  Shelelagh  and  Shamrock  so  green  ; 
His  clothes  spick  and  span  new  without  ever  a  speck, 
A  new  barcelona  tied  round  his  neat  neck, 
He  goes  to  a  tent  and  he  spends  half  a  crown, 
Comes  out,  meets  his  friend,  and  for  love  knocks 
h;m  down,  With  his  Sprig,  &,c. 

In  the  evening  returning,  as  homeward  he  goes, 
His  heart    soft  with  whiskey,  his  head  soft  with 

blows, 
From  a  Sprig  of  Shelelagh  and  Shamrock  so  green  ; 
He  meets  with  his  Sheiah,  who  frowning  a  smile, 
Cries,  get  you  gone  Pat,  yet  consents  all  the  while, 
To  church  they  soon  go,  and  nine  months  after  that 
A  young  baby  cries,  how  d'ye  do  father  Pat, 

With  your  Sprig,  &c. 

Success  to  the  land  that  gave  Patrick  his  birth, 
Success  to  all  parts  of  the  neighbouring  earth, 
Where  grows  the  Shelelagh  and  Shamrock  so  green  j 
May  the  sons  of  this  land,  and  the  sons  of  the  Shan- 
non, 
Thrash  the  foes  that  would  plant  on  our  confines  a 
cannon  ; 


67 

United  and  happy  at  liberty's  shrine, 

freedom  long  flourish  and  twine, 
Round  the  S  lelelagh  and  shamrock  so  green. 

Paddy's  Chapter  en  Pockets 

Oh  !  long  life  to  the  girls  who  revive  without  pother, 
The  mode  of  our  darling  original  mother, 
For  Eve  was  as  straight  as  the  sticks  of  sky-roc keU, 
And  rirst  set  the  fashion  of  wearing  no  pockets. 
Then,  ladies,  go  cool,  and  don't  care  a  splinter, 
For  easterly  triads  and  a  cold  frosty  winter  ; 
With  petticoats  light,  genteely,  and  clever, 
So  llannel  be  d d  and  the  ague  for  ever. 

Mistress  Eve,  who  with  panniers  her  sides  would 

not  saddle, 
Ne'er  thought  on  a  pocket  to  hold  in  herdaddle  ; 
By  my  soul,  the  invention's  quite  handy  and  sensible. 
So  bless  every  lady's  sweet  indispensible. 
Then  ladies,  &c. 

Och  !  from  Cork  Paddy  came,  and  the  English  de- 

fin'd  him. 
For  wearing  his  coal  neatly  buttoned  behind  him  ; 
Tit  for  tat,  English  Girls,  the  Pats  all  adore  you, 
So  pray  visit  Cork  with  your  pockets  before  you. 
Thed  ladies,  kc. 

At  one  of  your  boroughs  not  free  from  infection, 
Should  a  lady  set  up  at  a  general  election  : 
With  pocket  in  hand,  and  the  mopusses  in  it, 
Och  !  6he'd  be  at  the  head  of  the  poll  in  a  minute, 
Then  ladies,  Lc. 

The  late  Tristram  Shan'V,  and  no  man  was  apter, 
Oqco  threaten'd  on  pockets  to  write  a  big  chapter: 


59 

My  chapter  on  pockets  I  give  harum  scarum, 
So  bless  the  dear  creatures,  however  they  wear 
them. 
Then  ladies,  go  cool,  rnd  dont  care  a  splinter, 
For  men  must  adore  them  both  summer  and  win- 
ter ; 
For  sweet  are  their  smiles  in  all  changes  of  wea 

ther, 
So  bless  all  their  faces  »and  pockets  together. 


Stolen  Kiss. 

Tell  me  Maria,  tell  me  true, 

Is  it  a  crime  so  much  amiss, 
To  see  and  love  a  girl  like  you, 

And  steal  from  lips  like  yours,  a  kiss  t 

If  so,  revenge  the  crime  I've  done. 

Give  me  another  ere  we  part ; 
'Twill  fix  the  lover  you  have  won. 

And  live  for  ever  in  his  heart. 


Friend  and  Pitcher. 

The  wealthy  fool,  with  gold  in  store, 

Will  still  desire  to  grow  richer, 
Give  me  but  health,  I  ask  no  more, 

My  charming  girl,  my  friend  and  pitcher. 
My  friend  so  rare,  my  girl  so  fair, 

With  such,  what  mortal  can  be  richer , 
Give  me  but  these,  a  fig  for  care, 

With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend  and  pitcher. 

From  morning  sun  I'd  never  grieve, 
To  toil  a  hedger  or  a  ditcher, 


to 

If  that,  when  I  came  home  at  eve, 
I  might  enjoy  my  friend  and  pitcher 
My  friend  so  rare,  kc. 

Though  fortune  ever  shun  my  door, 
I  know  not  what  can  thus  bewitch  her ; 

With  all  my  heart  can  I  be  poor, 

With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend  and  pitcher, 
My  friend  so  rare  kc. 


Post  Captain. 

WHEN  Steerwell  heard  me  first  impart 

Our  brave  commander's  story, 
With  ardent  zeal  his  youthful  heart 

S weird  high  for  naval  glory  ; 
Resolv'd  to  gain  a  valiant  name, 

For  bold  adventures  eager, 
When  first  a  little  cabin-boy  on  hoard  the  Fame 

He  would  hold  on  the  jigger  : 
While  ten  jolly  tars,  with  a  musical  Joe, 
Hove  the  anchor  a-peak  singing  yoe  heave  yoe 
While  ten  jolly  tars,  kc, 

To  hand  top-gallant-sails  next  he  learn'd, 

With  quickness,  care,  and  spirit, 
Whose  gen'rous  master  then  discenrd 

And  priz'd  his  dawning  merit : 
He  taught  him  soon  to  reef  and  steeT, 

When  storms  convulse  the  ocean, 
Where  shoals  made  skilful  vct'rans  fear, 

When  mai  k'd  him  for  promotion  : 
As  none  to  the  pilot  e'er  answer'd  like  he, 


60 

When  he  gave  the  command,  hard  a-port  helm 
a-lee, 
Luff,  boys  luff,  keep  her  near, 
Clear  the  buoy,  make  the  pier. 

None  to  the  pilot,  &c. 

For  valour,  skill,  and  worth  renown'd, 

The  foe  he  oft  defeated, 
And  now  with  fame  and  fortune  crown'd 

Post  captain  he  is  rated  ; 
Who  should  our  injur'd  country  bleed, 

Still  bravely  would  defend  her  :' 
Now  blest  with  peace,  if  beauty  plead, 

He'll  prove  his  heart  as  tender. 
Unaw'd,  yet  mild  to  high  and  low, 
To  poor  and  wealthy,  friend  or  foe ; 
Wounded  tars  share  his  wealth, 
All  the  fleet  drinks  his  health  : 
Priz'd  be  such  hearts,  for  aloft  they  will  go, 
Which  always  are  ready  compassion  to  show 
To  a  brave  conquer'd  foe. 


The  Willow  Tree. 

O  TAKE  me  to  your  arms  my  love,  for  Keen  the 

wind  doth  blow, 
0  take  me  to  thy  arms  my  love,  for  bitter  is  my 

woe  ; 
She  hears  me  not,  she  cares  me  not,  nor  will  she 

list  to  me, 
And  here  I  lie  in  misery  beneath  the  willow  tree. 

My  love  has  wealth  and  beauty,  the  rich  attend  the 
door, 


Gl 

My  We  has  wealth  and  heauty,   and  I,  lalaa !  am 

poor ; 
The   riband   fair,  that  bound  her  hair,  is   all  that's 

left  to  me, 
While  here  1  lie  in  misery,  beneath  the  willow  tree. 

I  once  had  gold  and  silver,  I  thought  them  without 

end, 
I  once  had   gold   and  silver,   and  I  thought  I  had  a 

friend  ; 
My  wealth  is  lost,  my  friend  is  false,  my  love  he 

stole  from  me, 
And  here  I  lie  in  misery,  beneath  the  willow  tree. 


The  American  Star. 

Come,  strike  the  bold   anthem,  the  war-dogs  are 
howling, 
Already  they  eagerly  snuff  up  their  prey, 
The  red  clouds  of  war  o'er  our  forests  are  scowling, 
Soft  Peace  spreads  her  wings  and  flies  weeping 
away  ; 
The  infants  affrighted,  cling  close  to  their  mothers, 
The  youth  grasp  their  swords,  for  the  combat  pre- 
pare, 
While  beauty  weeps  fathers,  and  lovers,  and  bro- 
thers, 
Who  rush  to  display  the  American  Star, 

Come  blow  the  shrill  bugle,  the  loud  iron:  awaken. 
The  dread  rifle  seine,  let  the  cannon  deep  roar  ; 
No  heart  with  pale  fear,  or  faint  doublings  be  sha- 
ken, 
No  -slave's  hostile  foot  leave  a  print  on  our  shoi^ 
G 


02 

Shall  mothers,   wives,  daughters,   and  sisters,  left 
weeping. 
Insulted  by  ruffians,  be  dragged  to  despsir ! 
Oh  no  1  from  her  hills  the  proud  eagle  comes  sweep 
ing, 
And  waves  to  the  brave,  the  American  Star. 

The  spirits  of  Washington,  Warren,  Montgomery, 

Look  down  from  the  clouds,  with  bright  aspects 
serene  ; 
Come  soldiers,  a  tear  and  a  toast  to  their  memory, 

Rejoicing  they'll  see  us  as  they  once  have  been  ; 
To  us  the  high  boon  by  the  gods  has  been  granted, 

To  spread  the  glad  tidings  of  Liberty  far  ; 
Let  millions  invade  us,  we'll  meet  them  undaunted, 

And  conquer  or  die  by  the  American  Star. 

Your  hands  then,  dear  comrades,  round  Liberty's 
altar, 
United  we  swear  by  the  souls  of  the  brave  ! 
Not  one  from  the  strong  resolution  shall  falter, 

To  live  independent,  or  sink  to  the  grave  ! 
Then   freemen  fill  up — Lo !  the   strip'd  banner's 
flying,  ^ 
The  high  bird  of  Liberty  screams  through   the 
air, 
Beneath    her  Oppression   and    Tyranny  dying — 
\  Success  to  the  beaming  American  Star. 


The  Battle  of  the  Kegs. 

Gallants  attend,  and  hear  a  friend 
Trill  forth  harmonious  ditty  ; 

Strange,  things  I'll  tell,  which  late  befell, 
h>  Philadelphia  city. 


03 

'Twa*  parly  day,  as  poet*  say, 
Just  ffbeo  the  sun  was  rising-. 

r   '         >o  log  of  wood, 
And  saw  a  sight  surprising. 

As  in  amaze  he  stood  to  g 

The  truth  can't  be  denied,  sir; 
lie  spied  ;i  score  of  kegs,  or  more, 

Lie  driving  down  the  tide,  sir, 

ilor  too,  10  jerkin  blue, 
This  strange  appearance  viewing, 
First  damned  his  eyes,  in  great  surprise, 
Then  said,  "  some  mischiefs  brewing." 

44  These  kegs  now  hold  the  rebels  bold, 
44  Packed  up  like  pickled  herring: 

"  And  they're  come  down  to  attack  the  town, 
44  In  this  new  way  of  ferrying." 

The  soldier  flew,  the  sailor  too, 

And  scaled  almost  to  death,  sir, 
Wore  out  their  shoes  to  spread  the  news, 

And  ran  till  out  of  breath,  sir. 

Now  up  and  down,  throughout  the  town, 
Most  frantic  scenes  were  acted  : 

And  some  ran  here  and  others  there, 
Like  men  almost  distracted. 

Some  fire  cried,  which  some  denied, 

But  s,«id  the  enrth  had  quaked, 
And  girls  and  boys,  with  hideous  noise, 

Kan  through  the  streets  half  naked. 


64 

Sir  William  he,  sung  as  a  flea, 

Lay  all  this  time  a  snoring  ; 
Nor  dreamed  of  harm  as  he  lay  warm 

In  bed  with  Mrs.  Loring. 

Now  in  a  fright  he  starts  upright, 

Awaked  by  such  a  clatter ; 
First  rubs  his  eyes,  then  boldly  cries, 

"For  God's  sake,  what's  the  matter  Vf 

At  his  bed-side  then  he  espied 
Sir  Erskine,  at  command,  sir  ; 

Upon  one  foot  he  had  one  boot, 
And  t'other  in  his  hand,  sir. 

Arise,  arise,"  sir  Erskine  cries, 
"  The  rebels — more's  the  pity  ! 

"  Without  a  boat,  are  all  afloat, 
"  And  ranged  before  the  city. 

•*  The  motley  crew  in  vessels  new, 
"  With  Satan  for  their  guide,  sir, 

"  Packed  up  in  bags,  and  wooden  kegs, 
"  Come  driving  down  the  tide,  sir. 

"  Therefore,  prepare  for  bloody  war  ; 

"  These  kegs  must  all  be  routed, 
"  Or  surely  we  despised  shall  be, 

"  And  British  valour  doubted." 

The  royal  band  now  ready  stand, 
All  ranged  in  dread  array,  sir, 

On  every  slip,  in  every  ship, 
For  to  begin  the  fray,  sir. 


C5 

The  cannons  ronr,  from  shore  to  shore, 
Th«>  mall  arms  m  ike  I  rattle  j 

in,  I'm  sure  no  man 
L'cv  I  i¥t  -     -liange  a  battle. 

The  rebel  data — the  rebel  vales, 

With  rebel  trees  unrounded  ; 
The  distant  woods,  the  hills  and  floods, 

With  rebel  eehoes  sounded. 

The  fish  below  swam  to  and  fro, 

Attacked  on  every  quarter; 
Why  sure,  thought  they,  the  devil's  to  pay 

Among  folks  above  the  water. 
* 
The  kegs,  'tis  said,  though  strongly  made, 

Of  rebel  staves  and  hoops,  sir, 
Could  not  oppose  their  powerful  foes, 

The  conquers  British  troops,  sir. 

From  morn  to  night  those  men  of  might 

Displayed  amazing  courage  : 
And  when  the  sun  was  fairly  down, 

Retired  to  sup  their  porridge. 

One  hundred  men,  with  each  a  pen, 
Or  more,  upon  my  word,  sir, 

It  is  most  true,  would  be  too  few 
Their  valour  to  record,  sir. 

Suxh  feats  did  they  perform  that  dny 
Against  those  wicked  kegs,  sir, 

That  years  to  come,  if  they  get  home, 
They'il  make  their  boasts  and  brags,  sir. 
6* 


GG 

I*ail  to  the  Chief. 

Hail  to  the  Chief,  who  in  triumph  advances, 
Honour'd  and  blest  be  the  evergreen  pine  : 
Long  may  the  tree  in  his  banner  that  glances, 
Flourish  the  shelter  and  grace  of  our  line. 

Heaven  send  it  happy  dew, 

Earth  lend  it  sap  anew  ; 
Gayly  to  bourgeon,  and  broadly  to  grow  ; 

While  every  Highland  glen, 

Send  our  shout  back  agen, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  J" 

Ours  is  no  sapling  chance-sown  by  the  fountain, 

Blooming  at  Beltane,  in  winter  to  fade ; 
When  the  whirlwind  has  stript  every  leaf  on  the 
mountain, 
The  more  shall  Clan  Alpine  exult  in  her  shade. 
Moor'd  in  the  rifted  rock, 
Proof  to  the  tempest's  s^ock, 
The  firmer  he  roots  him,  the  ruder  it  blow  : 
Menteith  and  Breadalbane,  then, 
Echo  his  praise  agen, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  ! 

Proudly  our  pibroch  has  thrill'd  in  Glen  Fruin, 
And  Banochars  groans  to  our  slogan  replied, 
Glen  Luss  and  Ross  Dhu,  they  are  smoking  in  mm. 
And  the  best  of  Loch  Lomond  lie  dead  on  her  side* 

Widow  and  Saxon  maid, 

Long  shall  lament  our  raid, 
Think  of  Clan  Alpine  with  fear  and  with  wo. 

Lenox  and  Levon  glen, 

Shake  when  they  hear  agen 
"Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,. ho!  ieroe! 


C7 

Row,  rMiab,  row,  for  the  prick  of  the  Highlands  I 
Strel  -  for  the  erergreeo  }>ine! 

O  !  that  tin-   '  ii  h] amis, 

Wen  wrc  ith'd  id  i  g  irl  in  I  around  him  to  twine 

O  that  -  m, 

Worthy  such  noble  it 
(lonourM  and  blest  io  their  shadow  may  grow  ; 

Loud  should  Ci;in  Alpine  then, 

Ring  through  her  deepmostglen, 
*  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  I  leroe  l1' 


Gunpowder  Tea. 

Am — "  Jenny  put  the  kettle  on." 

Johnny  Full  and  many  more, 
Soon,  they  say,   are  coming  o'er  ; 
As  so  'ii  as  e\  i  they  re  ich  our  shore, 
They  must  have  their  tea. 

Chorvs. — So  go  and  put  the  kettle  on, 

bellows  strong  ; 
Load  our  cannon  every  one, 
With  strong  Gunpowder  tea. 

They'll  get  it  strong,  they  need  not  dread, 
Sweetened  well  with  sug  ir  of  Lead  ; 
Perhaps  it  may  get  in  their  head, 
And  spoil  their  t  iste  Tor  tea. 
So  go,  lie. 

But  should  they  set  a  foot  on  shore 
Their  cups  we'd  611  them  o'er  and 
Such  as  John  Bull  drank  here  befo 
Nice  Saratoga  iv.<\. 
So  $ro,  Lc. 


68 


Then  let  them  come,  as  soon's  they  can, 
They'll  find  us  at  our  posts  each  man ; 
Their  hides  we  wiM  completely  tan, 
Before  they  get  their  tea. 

Chorus. — So  go  and  put  the  kettle  on : 

Be  sure  to  blow  the  bellows  strong 
Load  our  cannon  every  one. 
With  strong  Gunpowder  tea. 


For  the  Fourth  of  July. 
AIR_«  Yankee  Doodle." 

Yankee  Doodle  is  the  tune 

Americans  delight  in  ; 
'Twill  do  to  whistle,  sing  or  play, 
And  just  the  thing  for  fighting. 

Chorus. — Yankee  Doodle,  boys,  huzza  ! 
Down  outside,  up  the  middle- 
Yankee  Doodle,  fa,  sol,  la, 
Trumpet,  drum,  and  fiddle. 

Should  Great  Britain,  Spain  or  France 

Wage  war  upon  our  shoro,  sir, 
We'll  lead  them  such  a  woundy  dance, 

They'll  find  their  toes  are  sore,  sir, 

Yankee  Doodle,  &c> 

Should  a  haughty  foe  expect 

To  give  our  ho)'«  a  caning, 
We  guess  they'll  find  the  lads  have  larnt 

A  little  bit  of  training. 

Yankee  Doodle,  &c. 


GO 

I'll  wager  now  a  mag  of  dip. 

An  I  bring  it  on  the  I  ible, 
Put  Yank<  No. ml  a  ihip, 

To  beat  (hem  they  are  able. 

Yankee  Doodle,  4ic 

Then  if  they  go  to  argufy, 
I  rat;.  .1  find  too, 

\W\  •  oftonguey  blades, 

To  oat-talk  'em,  if  they're  mind  to. 
Yankee  Doodle,  &c, 

America's  a  dandy  place  : 
The  people  are  all  brothers  : 

And  when  one's  got  a  pumpkin  pie, 
He  shares  it  with  the  others. 

Yankee  Doodle,  &c 

We  work,  and  sleep,  and  pray  in  peace— 

By  industry  we  thrive,  sir, 
And  if  a  drone  won't  do  his  part, 

We'll  scout  him  from  the  hive,  sir, 

Yankee  Doodle,  &a 

And  then  on  INDEPENDENCE  DAY 
(And  who's  a  better  right  to  ?) 

We  eat  and  drink,  and  sing  and  play, 
And  have  a  dance  at  night  too, 

Yankee  Doodle,  &c 

Our  girls  are  fair,  our  boys  are  tough, 
Out  old  folks  wi^e  and  healthy, 

And  when  we've  every  thing  enough, 
We  count  that  we  are  wealthy. 

Yankee  Doodle,  &c 


*0 

We're  happy,  free,  and  well  to  do, 

And  cannot  want  for  knowledge  ; 
For  almost  every  mile  or  two, 

You  find  a  school  or  college. 

Yankee  Doodle,  &c. 

The  land  we  till  is  all  our  own  ! 

Whate'er  the  price,  we  p»id  it ; 
Therefore  we'll  fight  till  all  is  blue, 
Should  any  dare  invade  it. 

Chorus. —  Yankee  Doodle,  boys  ;  huzza 1 

Down  OMtside,  up  the  middle  — 
Yankee  Doodle,  fa,  sol,  la, 
Trumoet,  drum  and  fiddle 


<" 


«:    Banks  and  Braes  o9  bonnie  Doon. 

Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon, 

How  can  ye  bloom  sa  fresh  and  fair  ? 
How  can  ye  sing,  ye  little  birds, 

While  I'm  sae  wearie  fu'  o'  care  i 
Ye'll  or3ak  my  heart,  ye  little  birds, 

Th»t  warble  on  the  flow'ry  thorn  ; 
Ye  mind  me  o'  departed  joys, 

Departed  never  to  return. 

Aft  have  I  stray'd  by  bonnie  Doon., 

To  see  the  rose  and  woodbine  twiwe, 
And  hear  ilk  bird  sing  o*  its  love, 

As  fondly  sae  did  1  of  mine  ; 
Wi'  lightsome  heart  1  pu'd  a  rose, 

Sae  sweet  upon  its  thorny  tree ; 
But  my  fause  love  has  stown  the  rose. 

And  left  the  sharpest  thorn  to  me. 


71 

O  blaw,  ye  flower*  your  bonnie  bloom, 
And  draw  the  wild  birds  to  the  burn  I 
For  Lumon  promit  d  me  a  ring, 

And  ye  maun  aif    me,  should  I  mourn. 
O  Dl,  na,  na,  ve  nowl  na  bloom  ! 

H  v  een  are  dim  ffld  drowsy  worn  : 
Ye  bonnie  birds,  >  e  Deed  na  sing, 

Kor  Lumon  uc\  »r  will  return. 

My  Lumon's  Ioti  ,in  broken  sighs, 

At  dawning  day  by  Doon  ye'li  hear; 
At  mid-day,  by  (he  willow  green, 

For  him  I'll  shed  the  silent  tear. 
Sweet  birds!   I  kon  ye'll  pity  me, 

And  join  me  m1  a  plaintive  sang, 
While  echo  wakes,  to  aid  the  mane 

I  uiak  tor  him  1  lo'ed  sae  lane, 


Sandy  and  Jenny. 

Come,  come,  bonny  lassie,  cried  Sandy  awa, 
While  mither9!  a  spinning,  and  father's  <iiar  ; 
The  folk  ;    q  at  work,  and  the  bairn*  are  at  play, 

And  we  will  be  married,  dear  Jenny,  to-day. 

Stay,  stay,  bonny  laddie,  I  answer'd  with  speed, 
1  winna.   I  munna,  go  wi'  you  indeed  ; 
Besides,  should  I  do  so,  what  would  the  folk  say,- 
O  are  canaa  marry,  dear  Sandy,  to-day. 

List,  list,  cried  he,  lassie,  and  mind  what  you  do, 
Baithy  Peggy  and  Patty  I  gave  up  for  you ; 
Besides  a  fnU  twelvemonh  ifled  away, 

And  one  or  the  other  I'll  many  to  day- 


72 

Fie,  fie,  bonny  laddie,  replied  I  again, 
When  Peggy  you  kiss'd  t'other  day  on  the  plain) 
Besides  a  new  ribbon  does  Pa^ty  display, 
So  we  canna  marry,  dear  Sandy,  to-day. 

Then,  then  a  good-bye,  bonny  lassie,  says  he, 
For  Peggy  and  Patty  are  waiting  for  me  ; 
The  kirk  is  hard  by,  and  the  bells  call  away, 
And  Peggy  or  Patty  I'll  marry  to-day. 

Stop,  stop,  bonny  laddie,  says  I,  with  a  smile, 
For  know  I  was  joking  indeed  all  the  while  ; 
Let  Peggy  go  spin,  and  send  Patty  away, 
And  we  will  be  married,  clear  Sandy,  to-day. 

For  the  Sake  of  Somebody, 

My  heart  is  sair,  I  dare  na  tell. 
My  heart  is  sair  for  somebody  ; 

I  could  wake  a  winter  night 
For  the  sake  o'  somebody. 
Oh-hon !  for  somebody. 

I  could  range  the  world  around, 

For  the  sake  o'  somebody. 

Ye  Powers  that  smile  on  virtuous  loye, 

O,  sweetly  smile  on  somebody ! 
Frae  ilka  danger  keep  him  free, 
And  send  me  safe  my  somebody. 
Oh-hon  !  for  somebody  ! 
Oh-hey  !  for  somebody  ! 
I  wad  do— what  wad  I  not  ? 
For  the  sake  o'  somebody ! 


